A Reluctant Hero: Rise of the Champion
by Magister of Asariel
Summary: Paden Hawke is a simple girl, who has always dreamed of living a simple life. But fate has dealt her a very different hand. This is my take on the story of Dragon Age 2, based on my first play through with a mage Hawke. I include some canon scenes and dialogue to move the plot forward, but most of it is what happens in between. I don't own Dragon Age, but I love writing about it!
1. Across the Waking Sea

**Act One**

**Chapter One**

**Across the Waking Sea**

Paden Hawke stared unblinkingly at the bits of sky she could see through the ship's top hatch. The sails flapped noisily in the breeze, a sound she barely registered anymore after two long, nauseating weeks at sea.

Exhaustion pulled at her, making her feel like she wouldn't even be able to lift her arm if she tried. But she didn't want to try. She wanted to just lie there, limp and unmoving, staring unblinkingly at the square of blue above her. It was easier this way; easier to cope with all that had happened, to ignore the grief and the pain that had befallen her family because of the Blight.

Paden let her eyes wander, turning her head slightly until her gaze fell on her mother sleeping beside the bulkhead a short distance away. Leandra was a proud woman whose hopes and dreams had all been torn apart and scattered on the flaming winds of war. Lothering, their home, had been near the front lines, and was the first to fall after the defeat at Ostagar. They had fled as refugees, running for their lives as darkspawn hounded their every step.

An unbidden tear welled in the corner of Paden's eye and she quickly blinked it away, then hid her face in her arms as she rested them against her bent knees.

Their home wasn't the only thing they had lost, wasn't the only thing they had been forced to leave behind.

Bethany. Her little sister. Paden winced as images flashed across her mind's eye. Her sister's slender body being smashed into the ground by the huge fist of a darkspawn ogre they had encountered in the wilds outside Lothering. Bethany had died instantly, Paden knew that, and it was the only thing that gave her any small measure of comfort. Her sister hadn't suffered.

But why? Why did Bethany have to try to fight the ogre on her own? Why could she not wait for Paden's help, for Carver's help?

Paden lifted her head just enough to look with one eye at her younger brother, also asleep against the bulkhead, their mother's head resting against his shoulder.

Carver had turned inward since Bethany's death, refusing to talk about it. Not that Paden had ever had a very close relationship with her brother. He always seemed to resent her somehow, no matter how often she tried extending the olive branch to him. But she understood that he felt swallowed in the size of her shadow. As a mage, trained by their father, she had been their father's pride and joy, and Paden knew—though she never liked to admit it—that she had also been father's favorite. A fact that was not lost on Carver.

Bethany had also been born with magical talents, which father had tutored her in. But Carver never seemed to resent Bethany. It could have been because she was his twin and they had always had a connection that no one else could share in. But it was probably mostly because father never gave Bethany preference over Carver. No, he had saved all his extra attention for Paden.

But now father was gone, and Bethany was gone. And all those silly rivalries and grudges that had existed since Carver was old enough to understand such things seemed silly and distant—at least to Paden they did. Her brother and her mother were the only people she had left in the world, and she loved them more than life itself. She would do whatever it took to keep them safe, and build a new life for them in Kirkwall.

Kirkwall, the great city state that lay across the Waking Sea from Paden's homeland of Ferelden. Formerly known as the City of Chains, Kirkwall had once been the capital of slave trade for the Tevinter Imperium. But that was centuries ago. The Imperium no longer ruled there, and slave trade was now seen only in dark alleys as underhanded dealings; unpopular, but not illegal.

But it wasn't the slavers that gave Paden pause about living in Kirkwall. No, slavers were not a threat to her. What tied her stomach in knots was the knowledge that Kirkwall was one of the largest headquarters for Templars in the Free Marches. There were more Templars in Kirkwall than in all of Ferelden combined. One of the duties of a Templar was to hunt down apostate mages.

When mother had suggested they seek refuge in Kirkwall, Paden's stomach had done a couple flip flops. She had spent her whole life hiding the fact that she, her father and her sister were illegal mages. It had worked out well for them in Lothering because it was such a small town, and even though it had a chantry, only a few Templars were ever stationed there, and they were easily avoided.

But now they would be surrounded by Templars, ones much more vigilant than those in Lothering most likely. Paden was not afraid for herself or what the Templars might to do her. She had always been afraid for her little sister. And now that Bethany was gone Paden feared for her mother and brother. What would happen to them if she was found out? They would be on the run again. And what if she was captured?

Paden clenched her jaw and shook her head slightly with resolution. She would just have to make sure that would never happen. Mother wanted to come to Kirkwall, the place where she had grown up. They still had family there, and so hopefully a place to stay. It was the only hope they had left; they really had no choice in the end.

—

The cry of seagulls roused Paden from a drowsy state. She stared bleary-eyed up though the top hatch and saw tall cliffs sail past. She swallowed past her parched throat and clutched the mast to pull herself to her feet. She coughed lightly and glanced over at the others.

"I think we're finally here," she said, and then headed for the ladder to the deck.

The cool sea breeze hit her face like a welcome balm, and she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with it. Two weeks in the dank, dark, smelly hold of the ship had started to convince Paden that life had ended, and that eternity would be filled with the endless crashing of waves and the deck swaying under her feet, of the constant threat of her last meal ending up in her lap.

Paden covered her mouth with one hand as she shoved those memories down into the deepest depths of her mind. She took a few more deep breaths of the sea air, feeling her head clear a little more with each one.

The sight before her was not a welcoming one. Having once been the slave trade capital, the seaside approach to Kirkwall had been designed to strike fear into the hearts of arriving slaves, and to this day it gave even seasoned sailors pause.

Great chains bound giant statues of weeping slaves, which flanked both sides of the passage into the harbor. They represented an end to hope, and Paden felt her heart sink at the sight of them.

"Well, isn't this a lovely sight," a voice said from behind her. "Home sweet home?"

Paden glanced at her brother as he came to stand beside her on the deck, but she didn't say anything.

"From Hightown you can't even see the chains," their mother said, coming up on Paden's other side. "Don't worry, this the first and last time you'll likely ever see them."

"How big is the family estate?" Carver asked.

"It's one of the finest in Kirkwall," Leandra answered.

"At least we won't want for anything," Paden said absently. "I hope Uncle Gamlen won't mind our coming."

"The estate is big enough for all of us," Leandra assured, though there was a troubled looked behind her eye. Paden knew that mother's relationship with their uncle was strained at best. Leandra had written to tell Gamlen they were coming, but they had received no response before boarding the ship. They did not know what kind of welcome to expect.

"I'll just be happy to get off this boat," another voice behind Paden said.

Paden glanced over her shoulder and sent a sympathetic smile to Aveline, their somewhat unwilling companion on this journey. They had met Aveline and her husband Wesley on the road out of Lothering, and had helped them defeat a band of darkspawn. But Wesley had been mortally wounded in the attack, and the darkspawn taint had got into his blood. Once that happened there was no chance of recovery. Wesley would have died a very slow and agonizing death. And on the road, with the threat of darkspawn so close, they did not have time to linger.

So Aveline had done the only thing her love for Wesley had allowed her to do. She had taken his dagger, and gazing into his eyes with love, had shoved the blade deep into his heart.

Aveline was a strong woman and proud, and she did not shed tears for Weasley—at least not in the presence of the others. But Paden knew that Aveline's grief was deep, and that her new friend's life had changed from that moment.

Aveline had decided to travel with them to Kirkwall, having no longer a place or a reason to stay in Ferelden. They were one sorry lot as they disembarked the ship in the old Gallows by the docks. All around them fellow passengers were greeted by waiting loved ones. But there was no one waiting for them. No Gamlen.


	2. A New Home

**Act One**

**Chapter Two**

**A New Home**

They weren't letting anyone into the city. At least none of the Fereldan refugees, not unless you had family in Kirkwall who would take you in. And no amount of persuasion from Paden would get the captain of the City Guard to let them leave the Gallows. He promised he would contact Uncle Gamlen, but until anything came of that they would just have to sit tight.

Waiting in the Gallows was just as bad as their time on ship, only in completely different ways. For one thing, all available rooms were taken, and so they were forced to sleep in the courtyard on the hard stone floor. Not that any of them were able to sleep out of sheer discomfort.

But the most uncomfortable aspect of staying in the Gallows was that it was the Templar headquarters and the place where all the Circle mages in Kirkwall lived. Paden had to be sure she kept a low profile there. It went without saying that she shouldn't do any magic while in the Gallows, but even simple things like engaging in heated arguments with her family members, or disagreeing with a shop keeper could attract attention. If any Templars got wind that she was an apostate she would be hauled off to the nearest cell, never to be seen again. A fact that Carver frequently reminded her.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not really concerned for my wellbeing when you say that?" she commented to him on their second day in the Gallows.

"I am," Carver assured. "I'm just… more concerned about Mother. If you're found out, Paden, mother will be heartbroken. She's already lost one daughter; she doesn't need to lose another."

Paden glanced away, gazing out across the courtyard at a group of Templar trainees having a conversation. "No, you're right," she said softly. She glanced back at her brother. "Don't worry, Carver. I'm not going anywhere."

Carver stood up and brushed off his pants. "So you say. Just you keep that sharp tongue of yours between your teeth. And then maybe I'll believe you." He walked away.

Paden sighed as she watched him leave. She couldn't argue with him because she knew he was right. Sometimes her tongue did get the better of her, especially where mages were concerned, and especially apostates. Being one herself she naturally felt honor-bound to defend them, sometimes at the risk of exposing herself. She had always considered the risk worth it. But they weren't in Ferelden anymore, where even the Templar's opinion of mages was considerably more relaxed than in Kirkwall. For mages this was the lion's den of Thedas. She had to be more careful from now on.

—

Three days in the Gallows came and went like a snail on pavement. Every waking moment was a whole new study in boredom. Carver yawned hugely while Aveline paced, muttering her discontent.

Paden glanced at the gate and noticed a man coming through, glancing about as if looking for someone. Finally his eyes focused on them and recognition dawned on his face.

"Leandra!" he exclaimed. He held out his arms as he walked closer to the elder Hawke. "Damn girl, the years haven't been kind to you."

"Gamlen!" Leandra rushed to her brother. She threw her arms around him and hugged him close.

The Hawke siblings and Aveline stood by watching. Growing up, Paden had always got the impression from her mother that she and Gamlen didn't get along. It must have been utter relief that made Leandra act that way.

Uncle Gamlen was a man of under average height, graying hair tied back into a short ponytail. A few days growth of beard covered a weak chin, and his eyes looked tired and somewhat sunken in a face weathered and aged beyond its years. Paden thought Gamlen looked uncomfortable as he pulled out of Leandra's hug.

"Let me say up front, I wasn't expecting this," he said. "The Blight, your husband…dead. You here like this. I thought you'd be Fereldan for life."

Tears welled in Leandra's eyes and she bowed her head. "Oh, Gamlen, we came too late. My darling Bethany didn't make it. Andraste guide her."

Paden clenched her jaw and forced back sudden emotions that threatened to burst. She could manage not to cry for Bethany every hour if she forced herself to not think about her sister's last moments, and the fact that she was gone forever. But if her mother broke down, Paden didn't know if she would be able to keep it together.

"Oh, Maker, save me," Gamlen breathed. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Leandra, don't do this to me here. I don't even know if I can help you all get in."

"Well, then can you at least get mother in?" Paden asked.

"No," Leandra said resolutely. "We stay together."

"But, Mother, if he can only get one of us in…"

"Then none of us are getting in," Leandra countered. "We will not be separated."

"Then what do we do?" Paden asked, looking at Gamlen. Had he received their letter? Hadn't he known they were coming? Why didn't he have this figured out already?

Gamlen sighed. "I was hoping to grease some palms, but the Knight-Commander's been cracking down. We're going to need more grease."

"But what about the estate?" Leandra asked. "Surely father left something when he died."

Gamlen shifted his feet and rubbed his arm nervously as he glanced around, refusing to meet their gazes. "Right, about the estate. It's…um…gone. To settle a debt. I've been meaning to write you."

"You sold the estate?" Paden said incredulously. That must have been a pretty huge debt.

Leandra stared at her brother for a moment, eyes wide, jaw slack. It was obvious she was just as shocked as Paden. Then she bowed her head and her shoulders sagged. "Then there's no hope," she breathed.

Gamlen hurried to reassure them. "Not quite. I know some people who might help, if… you're not too delicate about the company you keep.

Paden arched an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

Gamlen seemed pleased no accusations were forthcoming. "I talked to my contacts and I found some people who may be willing to pay your way into the city." He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "The catch is, you and your brother will have to work off the debt… for a year."

"A year?" Leandra exclaimed.

"It's the best I could do," Gamlen insisted. "Trust me when I say a bunch of refugees won't get a better option anywhere else."

Paden narrowed her eyes at Gamlen. "So, you're selling us into indentured servitude? _That's_ your idea?" She was starting to think staying and fighting it out in Ferelden sounded nicer. But no, not if they lost even more to the Darkspawn.

"Think of it as having a job waiting for you in your new home," Gamlen said, attempting to look on the bright side.

"Oh yes, that makes it sound so much better," Paden said sarcastically.

"I guess it's only a year, though, right?" Carver said, glancing at her.

Paden sighed and glanced around the Gallows. Was this really the only way they would be able to get out of this prison? "Well, couldn't we go somewhere else? Do we have to stay in Kirkwall?"

Gamlen shrugged. "I suppose you could try one of the other villages in the Marches. But Kirkwall isn't the only city being swamped with refugees. The smaller villages are probably out of the question by now.

Leandra shook her head stubbornly. "No. This is where we have roots. This is where we'll live."

"At least consider my offer," Gamlen said to Paden. "I managed to convince my contacts to come to the Gallows to meet you personally. Either one of them can help you. All you need to do is find them in the courtyard and convince them you're worth the trouble. If you still don't like it, then you are of course free to go somewhere else. But this is the best I can do for you here."

Paden sighed softly and glanced at her brother. "What do you think about this, Carver?"

Carver shrugged. "What can I say? Better here than nowhere."

A cold knot was beginning to form in Paden's stomach. She didn't like this one bit. But if it truly was their only option, then they should at least investigate it further. "Then let's find them," she said, "And see what they have to say."

"Oh, Gamlen, I don't know about this," Leandra said, clearly nervous.

"It's a lot of coin, Leandra. Don't go expecting our name to carry the kind of weight it used to."

"I still don't understand, Gamlen," Leandra said. "I can't believe you sold the estate. How could you?

"It doesn't matter right now," Gamlen said defensively. "What's done is done, it's in the past. This is what I have to offer you right now. It will be all right, you'll see. I have a nice place in Lowtown."

"And what of me?" Aveline interjected. "I will not allow others to incur debts on my behalf."

Gamlen scoffed. "I can't see that it makes a difference. You look like a lady who can pull her own weight."

Leandra frowned at her brother and then looked at Aveline. "Then you'll come with us."

Aveline seemed surprised by the invitation. "I…have no real option. Thank you."

Paden and Carver went to meet with Uncle Gamlen's contacts. The first was a man named Meeran who ran the Red Iron mercenary group. A seedy-looking individual to say the least, with a foul mouth to match. Paden did not like the feeling she got from him, and when he told her that in order to prove her worth to him she would have to assassinate a nobleman who had crossed the Red Iron, Paden knew she couldn't work for him. She had killed before, but only in defense of herself or others. She was not a murderer, and definitely not an assassin.

She politely told Meeran to shove off, and then went to see if the other contact was any more decent. She wondered how in Thedas Gamlen even knew these people.

Athenril was an elf who ran a small smuggling organization. The task to prove their worth to her was as simple as collecting a small monetary debt owed to Athenril by a business parter, which didn't prove to be too difficult. The sharp tongue that Carver had warned Paden about the day before came in quite handy now, and the merchant handed over everything that was owed, no force applied.

Athenril was quite impressed, and readily agreed to pay the bribe to get them into the city. The bribe that would make them virtually slaves for the next year.

—

Gamlen led them all from the Gallows to his house in Lowtown, which was around the side of the horbor, quite a walk from the docks. All the way there Hightown rose above them like a jagged mountain peak, displaying in all its towering glory the might of the Tevinter Imperium that built it on the backs of slaves.

Gamlen's apartment was located just outside the alienage in the slums. Not only was it Lowtown, it was nearly as low as you could go in Lowtown. Paden took it all in with a set jaw and a stony expression. They were going to live here? Mother's family, the Amells, had been one of the wealthiest and most respected families in Kirkwall. Last they had heard that was still true. Somehow Gamlen had wasted it all away, and that made Paden angry.

They walked into the three room hovel and stood there staring for a moment. The bare, rough-hewn wood floor and cracked and crumbling plaster walls gave the impression the place was abandoned. Only Gamlen's sparse sticks of furniture and a few hot coals in the hearth were to convince the casual observer that anyone actually lived there. Cobwebs hung from the rafters in thick curtains, having never been swept away since the house had been built. Clearing those away would be one of the first things Paden would do. She didn't mind spiders so much, but hated their webs. She could pick a spider up with her bare hands without reservation, but if she got a web on her it gave her the creeps.

"So, this is your 'nice place'?" Carver asked sarcastically, quoting what Gamlen had told them in the Gallows.

"It's got a roof and four walls," Gamlen defended. "It's not the nicest place in town, but it's certainly not the worst. I would be grateful if I were you, it's certainly better than the Gallows."

"Can't argue there," Carver admitted as he wandered into one of the bedrooms. His voice called out to them. "Looks like we're going to be sharing a bunk bed, Sister."

"We are not," Paden said as she joined him in the bedroom. There were three single beds in the room, all joined one on top of the other.

"I get the top," Carver said as he climbed up the ladder.

Paden turned to face Gamlen as he and Leandra joined them in the room. "You expect us to all sleep on a bunk in the same room?"

"The house is small," Gamlen said. "No room for separate beds, let alone separate rooms. I've got a cot in the other room, at least you have real beds."

Paden sighed, choosing not to argue. After all, what could she do about it? Gamlen had done the best he could on short notice. But the thought of mother sleeping on a bunk with her grown children, none of them ever having their own space, made it difficult to remember to be grateful.

"I guess I'll take the middle one then," she said. "Mother shouldn't have to climb a ladder to get into bed."

"Thank you, dear," Leandra said.

Paden turned to leave the room. "I'm going to go for a walk."

"You're not going to walk on these streets alone, are you?" Leandra asked.

"What other streets should I walk on?" Paden said bitterly. "This is where we live now; best get used to it." She grabbed her staff that she had leaned against the wall in the main room. Her mother and Gamlen followed her out. "Besides," she added, "I'm working for a smuggler now. I expect I'll be put into all kinds of danger."

"Well at least take Carver with you," Leandra urged, worry creasing her brow.

"I can look after myself," Paden said, and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

Leandra whirled on Carver who was just emerging from the bedroom. "Go after her," she said.

"What for? She's right, she can take care of herself."

"Carver, this is a strange city filled with Templars, I don't want her out there alone." She sighed and stared at the closed door. "I can't believe she just left like that. She seems so angry."

"And why not?" Carver said. He glared at Gamlen. "She has every reason to be. Maker knows things could have been a lot better for us here."

"You ungrateful little—"

Carver cut his uncle off. "I'm going out." He headed to the door.

"Are you going after your sister?" Leandra called. "Carver?"

"Yes," he answered, and then closed the door behind him.

—

Paden had wandered into the Lowtown Bazaar, which was the marketplace for that part of the city. Vender's booths lined the streets and the air was filled with the sounds of venders hawking their wares, and the smells of roasting meat and freshly baked bread.

Paden browsed the booths slowly, allowing the bustle and comings and goings around her to calm her nerves. She wasn't angry at Mother, she didn't know why she had lashed out like that. She should have lashed out at Gamlen, he's the one who deserved it, selling the estate and being so irresponsible as he was. He had admitted to them as he walked them to his house that he had spent it on a few investments that turned sour, as well as on gambling, liquor and women. He had wasted it all away on frivolous things, and now it was gone, never to be regained.

Paden paused to browse the items of a weapons dealer, admiring the fine craftsmanship of a couple small daggers. She thought she should probably invest in a dagger or two for added self defense. She was a decently skilled mage, but sometimes a blade just couldn't be beaten, especially in a city where she would likely have to limit her use of magic.

"May I help you?" the dwarven merchant asked her after a moment.

Paden glanced up. "Actually, I was wondering if you ever get any specialty items in?"

"Eh…specialty items?" the merchant asked, raising one eyebrow.

Paden nodded. "Yes. Items that only people with a certain skill set would carry."

The merchant regarded her for a moment before nodding slowly in understanding. "Ah, yes, I believe I do have a few extra items I keep in back," he said, and motioned her around the side of his booth, where he opened a long lock box that laid on a table. Inside were three mage staffs, each one completely unique.

"Is this what you were hoping to see?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Paden said. She gently ran her fingers along the middle staff, which had immediately caught her eye. The shaft was wrapped with red rope-work, set off beautifully by the black stained wood. The top of the staff was adorned with a head fashioned to look like that of a stylized dragon. The end of the staff sported a long, thin blade that looked somewhat like a stretched axe head. Paden had never seen a mage staff with a blade on it before. The idea intrigued her.

"You know, you worry Mother," Carver's voice said from behind her.

She didn't turned around as she continued studying the staffs. "Did she send you out after me?"

"Yes. I don't know why you're taking all this out on her. It's not her fault we're here."

"Isn't it?" Paden asked. She turned to face her brother with her sharp green eyes. "She's the one who brought us here in the first place. Or don't you recall my objection when she brought it up back in Lothering?"

"Of course _you_ didn't want to come here," Carver said. "Neither did Bethany. But where else would we have gone really? And anyway, Mother didn't know that Gamlen was a weasel. It's not her fault."

Paden sighed, and after a moment she nodded. "I know. I'm just angry. Angry at Gamlen though, not Mother."

"Maker knows we have every right to be angry at him," Carver agreed.

"So she really sent you after me?"

Carver laughed without humor. "Of course, you think I'd come looking for you on my own?"

"So you don't share mother's concern about me on these hostile streets all alone?"

"Of course not. You fought darkspawn all the way here. You killed an ogre. I'm more afraid for anyone who crosses _you_."

Paden smiled. It wasn't often that her brother paid her a compliment, so it meant a lot to hear him say that.

"Anyway," Carver said, clearing his throat. "They got any good swords here?"

"I wasn't really looking at the swords," Paden admitted as she glanced back at the case with the mage staffs.

Carver moved to the table where the swords and knives were arranged, leaving Paden with her thoughts. She casually glanced at the price tag on the red and black staff and winced. Three sovereigns. That seemed like a fortune. She'd be lucky to afford ten silver right now.

She sighed longly and then turned away from the staff, joining her brother at the sword table. Some day…


	3. Blood Magic

**Act One**

**Chapter Three**

**Blood Magic**

Working for Athenril was challenging to say the least. As the weeks and months passed, Paden and Carver Hawke were kept too busy to ever get bored. They had a job almost every night, and some took them outside Kirkwall for even days at a time. The sorts of people they were forced to associate with were rough, rude and unscrupulous. Carver took to it like second nature, trying to fit in with the tough crowd. His manner of speech became more abrupt, and his attitude more callous. It saddened Paden to see him changing so, especially since he seemed to be pulling away from the family. But he never wanted to talk, so she just left him alone.

Paden did what had to be done in order to complete a job, but she never enjoyed it. Every night she'd stay up into the wee hours of the morning studying their father's old book on magical theory and technique, learning new offensive and defensive spells. She consistently increased in skill, and after nine months time could stand alone against an entire mob of mercenaries. Though, she never had to do that, since Carver was always at her side, and his two-handed sword was just as effective as any spell Paden could cast. He learned new tricks and techniques in swordplay from some of the more colorful people they were forced to associate with in Athenril's employ.

Athenril and Paden didn't often get along. Paden's conscience often got the better of her, and she would try to refuse work that didn't sit right in her gut. But of course she didn't have a choice; she was a slave for all intents and purposes. She had to do what she was told.

One such head butting came about when Athenril ordered the Hawkes to negotiate a trade agreement with a group of blood mages that worked underground to infiltrate and influence the Circle mages to blood magic, in the hopes of aiding in a mage uprising.

While Paden was all for liberty for mages, she didn't want anything to do with blood magic. It was just bad news on all accounts. Nothing good ever came from making a deal with a demon. Even the thought of it gave Paden the chills.

So of course she protested doing the job.

"I will not," she said forcefully, and was happy to see Carver taking her side as well. "I won't have anything to do with blood magic, Athenril."

"They're blood mages, yes," Athenril admitted, hardening her voice to match Paden's. "But you don't have to _do_ blood magic to get the job done. Just meet with them and give them the terms of our contract, then have them sign if they agree. It's that simple."

"I said I want _nothing_ to do with them," Paden insisted. "By offering them a contract you're aiding their cause, and I won't be party to anything a blood mage wants to do."

"Well, guess what, Hawke," Athenril said, venom in her voice as she came almost nose to nose with Paden, "You don't have a choice. You can either do the job as I ask, or you can go back to your sorry excuse for a family with a big fat bill for debts unpaid as a parting gift."

Paden stared at the elf for a moment as she weighed her options. It didn't take Carver quite as long to make up his mind.

"Sister, let's just do the job. You know we can't afford to pay off the debt with coin."

"Listen to your brother, Hawke," Athenril advised.

Paden clenched her jaw and practically growled at the elf, but she finally relented. "And what if they don't accept your terms?" she asked.

"Then no deal," Athenril said. "Meet down at the docks, midnight tonight. Your contact's name is Larious." She handed Paden a sealed envelope containing the contract.

Paden snatched the envelope from the elf's hand and then spun on her heal, forcing Carver to jog a couple steps to catch up with her. Paden was fuming.

"We've got to get out of here," she muttered, deliberately keeping her voice under control since they were in a public place.

"What are you talking about?" Carver asked as he fell into a brisk pace beside her.

"I can't do this anymore, Carver. I can't work for her anymore. It's degrading and humiliating. Not to mention it's making me into someone I don't want to be."

"We don't exactly have a choice, Sister," Carver answered pragmatically.

"That's easy for you to say, you _like_ working for her."

Carver laughed in disbelief. "I do not, whatever gave you that idea?"

Paden stopped walking and faced her brother. "Many things. The way you've taken to this life. The way your attitude's changed."

Carver shook his head. "Not on your life, Sister. Athenril goes way too far a lot of the time. Yes, I like the fighting and the excitement, but that's about it."

Paden regarded her brother for a moment. "I'm glad to hear that," she admitted softly. Then she continued walking again, only at a more normal pace since her anger was ebbing quickly. She shook her head and rubbed her brow with her fingers. "Blood mages," she muttered.

Carver chuckled. "The way you said that made it sound like a curse."

"Yeah well it should be. Blighted idiots. What makes a mage think that blood magic will accomplish anything? All it will do is cause the Templars to crack down even harder. It's the last thing we need."

"Well, as much as I agree with you, Sister, it's not our job to change it. Our job is to do what Athenril asks, and that's it."

"I wish we had never agreed to work with her. Maker curse Gamlen and his great ideas."

"It's only three more months," Carver said. "Then we can kiss Athenril good bye and actually start making some coin."

—

Midnight came around quickly, and soon the Hawke siblings found themselves standing in an alley by the docks facing three men wearing mage robes.

"My name is Hawke," Paden said. "I work for Athenril."

The leader of the mage group, who wore first enchanter's robes, smiled slightly. "I am Larious. You are prepared to negotiate terms for a trade agreement?"

Paden shook her head. "No negotiations. I'm authorized to hand you this contract, and then take it back again with your signature." She handed it to him.

He regarded her for a moment and then took the envelope, opened it, and began reading. After a moment he shook his head. "This is unacceptable."

Paden stared at him and then held out her hand for the contract. "I'm sorry you feel that way. You'll have to take it up with Athenril."

"Hm, Athenril is not easy to get in touch with—at least not personally. I've never even met her. I always have to deal with lackeys like you."

"That's how she does business," Paden explained. "But I'll let her know you're not satisfied." She reached for the contract again, but Larious pulled it back and shook his head.

"I want more of a guarantee than that," he said. "I want to meet Athenril in person or this trade agreement will not happen."

"I told you, I'll let her know; that's all I can promise. What she does with it isn't my concern."

Larious considered that a moment as he eyed Paden. "I wonder if she would be willing to meet if she knew I had something of hers she wanted back."

Paden frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Larious smiled minutely. "Hawke," he said slowly, as if tasting the name. "I've heard of you before, your reputation precedes you. You've made quite a name for yourself in the Undercity. I happen to know that you're one of Athenril's most valuable employees."

"Just what are you getting at?" Carver demanded.

"It's quite simple," Larious said. "You come quietly with me, and when Athenril agrees to see me, then you can go free."

"And what if Athenril doesn't agree to see you?" Paden demanded.

Larious spread his hands and smiled sympathetically.

"You've got to be kidding," Carver said. "You want us to agree to being kidnapped just so you can get to Athenril?"

"Such a bright young lad you are," Larious said, turning a mocking smile on Carver.

"Well the answer is no," Paden said. "I'm not getting involved in this any more than what Athenril's told me to do. You'll just have to find some other way."

Larious sighed and shook his head regretfully. "Oh, that was the wrong answer," he said. "You see, you can either come with me willingly…or not."

As he spoke the two mages behind him brought their staffs to bear. Carver's sword was out in an instant while Paden reacted by casting a barrier spell between herself and Larious. Just in time, too, since Larious first used a telekinetic burst that would have thrown Paden back off her feet, but instead only knocked her back a couple steps.

Carver had dodged to the side just in time and the burst missed him by inches. He went after the two mage lackeys while Paden sent fireballs through her staff at Larious. The blood mage cast a strong spell shield around himself and the brunt of Paden's attack couldn't touch him. But she didn't let off her attack. She knew he wouldn't be able to sustain such a strong shield indefinitely, and soon she would be able to get through. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Carver cut down one of the other mages.

Then Larious's shield began to falter and Paden assaulted him with fireball after fireball. The blood mage cried out and tried dodging to the side, but it was a futile move as Paden tracked him with her staff.

Then Larious called forth the powers of nature and sent a storm of lightening at Paden. One of the bolts hit her in the shoulder and she immediately put all her energy into strengthening her shield. She noticed that Carver had dispatched the other mage lackey and was now turning his blade on Larious.

The lightening stopped as Larious moved to avoid Carver's attack. Paden wasted no time in renewing her own attack. Larious was getting bogged down, and too tired to sustain a proper shield. As Paden and Carver closed in, in desperation he used another telekinetic burst, which this time knocked both Hawkes off their feet.

Carver was dazed and couldn't rise immediately. Paden had been protected from the worst of it by her failing shield. She got shakily to her feet. Larious was visibly exhausted. If she was quick she'd be able to wear him down until he couldn't fight back. She picked up her staff and sent more fireballs in his direction.

But Paden had forgotten one important factor. Larious was a blood mage. And, unlike most mages who drew their power from the fade alone, blood mages were able to draw their power from life energy if their mana from the fade became week—either from their own life energy or that of a third party.

As Carver got himself to his feet and picked up his sword, Larious suddenly threw a renewed assault against Paden; a lightening storm of fearsome proportions. She was knocked back several steps before bracing against it with her physical as well as magical strength.

Then Carver collapsed to the ground and began crying out weakly. In that moment Paden realized where Larious was getting his second wind. He was using Carver's life force to augment his powers. If Larious wasn't stopped he could actually kill Carver that way.

Paden focused, strengthening her shield to ward against the continued lightening attack. Then with her staff she inscribed a paralysis glyph on the ground at Larious's feet, which effectively called a halt to his movements, preventing him from casting any more spells. Once he was frozen, and before the glyph expired, Paden summoned every last ounce of strength she could muster, and raising both hands into the air, she called down a fire storm on Larious. Fireballs fell from the sky, exploding on and around Larious until he was obscured by flame and smoke. At the same time Paden shot more fireballs from her staff for good measure.

It took a few moments for the powerful mage to fall, but fall he finally did. And as the fireballs dissipated, Larious's scorched body lay smoking on the ground, unmoving.

Paden collapsed to the ground, exhausted. Her whole body trembled and she couldn't even find the energy to lift her arm. She had never fought a fellow mage before, let alone a blood mage. It was very different from fighting someone who did not have magical skill. It required her to tap deeper reserves of strength that she had never tapped before, and to use spells she had only read about. It showed her just how powerful she wasn't. She prayed to the Maker she would never have to go up against another mage again.

After the fog cleared from her head she was able to remember Carver. She raised her head off the ground and saw him lying a few yards away, unmoving.

"Carver!" she called, but he didn't respond. "Carver!"

She forced herself to move and crawled over to her brother. He was unconscious, and wouldn't wake even when she shook his shoulder. "Carver, wake up!"

She glanced around frantically, looking for anyone who could help her. But there were few people on the docks at night, and she was in a blind alley; no one was around. Paden wasn't a petite woman, but Carver was a full grown, heavily muscled man, easily twice her weight. Even in prime condition she wouldn't be able to lift him and carry him all the way home on her own.

At least he was breathing still, but barely. "Oh, Maker, save us," she breathed as she glanced around frantically. She couldn't leave Carver alone while she went to get help. There were stray dogs and nefarious people out at night; he wouldn't be safe.

But what else could she do? They couldn't just stay there. Carver needed help. She finally got up and walked to the alley's entrance and took a look around. A full moon cast everything into sharp relief, and Paden could make out a group of men gathered on one of the piers down the street. She glanced back at her brother, decided she had to risk it, and then hurried to the pier.

"Excuse me!" she called as she approached. "I need help!"

Then men—three of them—turned to look at her, and instead of giving her concerned looks, they smiled.

"Well, what do we have here?" one of them said as he raked his eyes across Paden.

"I need your help," Paden said. "My brother is injured."

They didn't seem to hear her words as they moved slowly to surround her. "Looks like our night just got a lot better, boys," another of them said.

Paden suddenly realized their intentions and she backed away. "I need your help," she said again, putting more authority in her voice. "My brother's life is in danger."

"In good time, missy," the first man said. "All in good time."

They stepped closer to her. Paden backed away and held one hand out toward the nearest man. She conjured a flame in her hand and took a defensive stance.

"Keep your distance!"

All three men halted and then backed up a couple steps. "She's a blighted mage!" one of them exclaimed.

"I don't want to hurt you," Paden said. "All I want is your help. I'll pay you ten silvers if it will motivate you. I need to get my brother to safety."

The men exchanged nervous glances.

"You have nothing to fear from me if you stay respectable," Paden assured.

"Ten silver?" one of the men said. "Each?"

Paden gasped and glared at him. "Each? It won't even take all three of you to carry my brother!"

"Each," the second man insisted. "Else I ain't helpin'."

Paden sighed. That would be all the money they had for that week. But wasn't Carver's life worth much more? "Fine, ten each," she said. "Now please, help me."

She motioned for the men to follow her, and she led them back to the alley where, thankfully, Carver still lay undisturbed. He was still unconscious, and still did not respond to Paden's calls.

The men glanced around at the scene. The two mages that lay bleeding out on the pavement, and another body, scorched beyond recognition, that lay close by.

"Uh…where you want us to take him?" one of the men asked, choosing not to comment.

"The Old City Slums," Paden said.

One of the men laughed while the other two gaped at her. "The slums?" one exclaimed. "You want us to carry him all the way to the slums, are you crazy, lady?"

"Do you want the ten silver or not?" Paden demanded. "Hurry up, we haven't got all night, I need to help my brother."

Grumbling, the men lifted Carver, and then followed Paden as quickly as they could.

The going was slow, but with the men's help Carver was brought home. When they burst in through the front door of Gamlen's house, Leandra jumped up from her chair in fright.

"Paden? What's going on? What's wrong with Carver?"

"Bring him in here," Paden said to the men as she led them into the bedroom. She motioned for them to lay her brother down on the bottom bunk.

"Paden, what happened?" Leandra demanded.

"We encountered a blood mage," Paden said softly as she quickly checked her brother's condition.

"A blood mage?" Leandra gasped. "What happened?"

"Hey, what about our coin?" one of the men demanded.

Paden sighed and fished thirty silver coins out of the pouch on her belt and handed it to the man. "Here you go. Thank you for your help."

"I'll show you to the door," Gamlen said with a frown.

As the men left the room Paden and her mother knelt beside Carver.

"Paden, what's wrong with him? Is he injured?"

Paden shook her head. "The blood mage drew his life energy; he almost died."

"Is there anything you can do for him?"

"I don't know!" Paden said, beginning to panic when she listened to her brother's heartbeat and had to listen again to be sure it was even there. "I'm not a healer," she explained. "I don't know the first thing about healing magic. Mother, do you know any arcane healers in the city?"

Leandra shook her head. "I don't think there are any, dear. At least not ones who would advertise their services."

Paden knew the truth of that.

"What about the Circle?" Leandra said. "Surely one of the mages there would know healing magic."

Paden stood up and began to pace. "The Circle? Mother, don't you know what turning to them would mean? If one would even agree to come here, he'd be accompanied by a Templar. The last thing we need is for one of them to know where we live."

"Tell me the truth, Paden, could Carver die from this?"

Paden sighed and looked down at her brother. "I don't know at this point, possibly."

"Then do we have any other choice?"

Paden rubbed her eyes wearily for a moment as she considered their options. "I'll take a quick look at father's grimoire," she said. "Maybe I can learn something that will help."

"Well, hurry, Paden. We shouldn't delay help for your brother any more than necessary."

Paden hurried into the next room and retrieved the large book from the table. She sat down next to Carver's bed and began perusing the pages. Leandra paced, biting her nails, while Gamlen leaned against the door frame, waiting.

The healing arts were complex, and not many mages ever bothered to learn them. But a basic healing spell that granted vitality to an injured or exhausted person didn't look too complicated compared with the others. Paden just had to be careful not to exhaust herself or she'd need healing too.

After reading through the technique several times, Paden set the book aside and knelt by her brother's bed. She placed both hands flat on his chest and closed her eyes to concentrate.

She found that place inside her that connected her to the fade. She anchored herself there and began drawing power from it. A soft white light began to glow around her hands as she imparted that energy into Carver's body.

The effort was incredibly draining for Paden. She almost immediately felt exhausted, but that could have been due to the fact that she had just had a fight to the death with a blood mage.

After a moment Carver's body began to vibrate. "Paden, what's happening?" Leandra asked worriedly.

Paden shut her eyes tighter and tried to tune out her mother's voice. She didn't need any distractions. After a couple more minutes Paden felt a sudden heaviness settle over her, like a thick wool blanket. Her head began to swim and abruptly her connection to the fade faltered and her body sagged, nearly falling atop Carver.

Leandra caught her by the shoulders and pulled her back. "What happened?" she demanded.

"I can't…" Paden said weakly. "I'm too tired, that's all I can do."

"Was it sufficient?" Leandra asked.

"I don't know." Paden leaned forward and listened to her brother's heart again. It was beating stronger. "I think it must have helped a little. I think he'll be all right now. He just needs to rest."

Leandra let out a tense breath. "Oh, thank the Maker. How did this happen, Paden? How did you get involved with a blood mage of all things?"

Paden rubbed her eyes wearily. "Athenril," she said simply.

"Oh, of course. All the problems we have now are because of that blighted elf. I wish you didn't have to work for her." She shot a glare at Gamlen.

"What?" Gamlen demanded. "You're blaming me for this now?"

"This would never have had a chance to happen if you'd been more responsible, Gamlen."

"Hey, I—"

"Would you two quit arguing about this again?" Paden said, her voice sharp. She stood shakily to her feet. "I need to rest." She climbed the ladder to her bunk and collapsed atop her blankets, too tired to bother climbing under them. "Wake me…if Carver wakes…" she mumbled before dropping into exhausted sleep.


	4. A New Goal

**Act One**

**Chapter Four**

**A New Goal**

Paden didn't wake again until early afternoon the following day. She became aware of the sound of pots and pans rattling in the other room, and her eyes snapped open. She stared at the bottom of the bunk above her for a moment, trying to remember recent events.

It all came back to her in an instant and she leaned over the side of her bunk to see the one below her. Carver was still lying there, eyes closed.

Paden quickly scrambled out of her bunk and knelt beside her brother. She looked at him for a moment, trying to notice anything different about him. Then she placed a gentle hand on his forehead.

Carver's eyes opened and looked at her. "What are you doing?" he asked, as if he were just waking up after a good night's sleep.

Paden jerked her hand back, startled. "Carver! You're all right."

Carver smiled slightly. "Thanks to you, I hear."

"You had us pretty worried," Paden said.

Leandra's voice came from the doorway. "He woke up about an hour ago. He seemed just fine so I let you keep sleeping. You needed the rest, Paden."

Paden nodded, not upset about getting more sleep. She looked at her brother. "How are you feeling?"

"A little sore, but I've felt worse," Carver said.

Paden sighed with relief and sat back on her heels. "I need to get some Lyrium potion," she said.

"Lyrium?" Leandra said. "That costs a fortune."

Paden nodded in agreement. "But if I'd have had some when we encountered those blood mages, I would have been able to protect Carver better. I would have been able to defeat them faster, and it wouldn't have left me feeling so drained afterwords."

"Where can you get Lyrium?" Carver asked. "Isn't it tightly controlled by the Circle?"

Paden nodded. "That's probably where I'd have to go in order to get any."

"To the Circle?" Leandra exclaimed. "Paden that's so dangerous. What if they question you? What if you're found out?"

"I don't know what else to do," Paden said. "I really need to get some."

"What about Athenril?" Carver asked. "She's smuggled Lyrium before."

Paden shook her head. "We're already indebted to her enough."

"But even if you did get some, Paden, it's addictive. It's not safe," Leandra said.

"I know the risks, Mother. I wouldn't use it unless I had no other choice. But I'd just like to have the option. That encounter was the first time in my life I've ever needed a boost to my power. I hope I'll never need it again, but in our line of work I think we can't be too careful or overly prepared."

"I know you're probably right," Leandra confessed. "I just still don't like the idea, and how would we afford it anyway?"

"I don't know," Paden said with a slight shrug. "But I'm going to keep my eye out for an opportunity." She stood to her feet. "In the mean time I need to go face Athenril. Tell her why her deal went sour." She turned to leave the room.

"Hey, Sister," Carver called after her.

Paden stopped walking and glanced over her shoulder.

"Don't lose our jobs."

Paden quirked a slight smile and then left the house.

Athenril worked out of the seedier end of High Town in the Red Lantern district. It was quite a walk from the Lowtown slums. Which was probably a good thing, since it gave Paden plenty of time time to focus and calm herself and rehearse what she was going to say to the elf.

"Hawke," Athenril said in surprise as Paden approached. "You never returned last night. You know you were supposed to report back immediately, right?"

"There were complications," Paden said. "Your blood mages attacked us. My brother was nearly killed."

Athenril arched her eyebrows in surprise. "They attacked you? Why would they do that?"

"They weren't happy with the terms of the contract," Paden said simply.

"Still, that's a bit of an over reaction," Athenril said. "Are you sure you didn't provoke them?"

"They're fanatical blood mages. They don't need provoking. They wanted to take my brother and I captive to bring you out of hiding."

Athenril laughed.

"I take it that means their plan wouldn't have worked then?" Paden said flatly.

Athenril chuckled again and shook her head. "So what happened? Do I need to deal with the mages?"

"No, they've been dealt with. And that's the last time I'm doing a job that involves blood mages, Athenril."

"This is also the last time I want to hear you refusing an order," Athenril said. "You do the jobs I give you or you're going home, Hawke."

Paden forced her voice to remain calm. "Well, then if you insist on doing business with blood mages, may I suggest sending more people next time at least?"

"Maybe doing business with blood mages wasn't such a good idea," Athenril admitted.

Paden was surprised to hear that from the elf, but pleased. "Definitely not," she agreed.

"All right, Hawke, go home, get some rest. I'll have another job for you tomorrow night."

Paden wasn't sure she should be relieved or disappointed to hear that. So she just nodded. "All right." Then she turned and strode from the district. She was happy to have the day off, but not at all looking forward to going back to work.

Paden wandered around the city for a couple hours after that, just wanting to be alone, but at the same time wishing she wasn't. She was lonely. She'd been feeling lonely for the last few months, wishing she had someone she could confide in, someone who would listen to her gripes and her concerns without being judgmental or irritable.

She couldn't talk to Carver about anything; he was her little brother, and their relationship was strained at best. She couldn't often talk with Mother either—at least not about the things that occupied and troubled her thoughts these days. She didn't want to worry her mother. If Leandra knew the details of Paden's job and what her daughter had to go through every day she'd probably have a heart attack.

No, Paden couldn't confide in her family. At least not anymore. She used to confide in Bethany, and seemed to miss her sister more now than she did in the days just after Bethany's death. She missed having someone she could just sit down and talk with about anything and everything. Someone who would listen to her concerns, sympathize with her hurts, and giggle at her jokes.

"Maker, Bethany, I miss you," she whispered aloud. But Bethany was gone, and Paden had no other friends. She felt more alone in that moment than she had ever felt in her life.

She found herself standing in the middle of the Lowtown Bazar, just staring blankly at the crowds, not knowing what to do.

On an unconscious impulse, her feet took her to the weapons shop she had first visited all those months ago—the one with the unique mage staff that the proprietor kept in his secret stock. She had gone back to admire that staff many times since then, but she had never come any closer to affording ownership.

She asked to see the staff again, and was again disappointed that the price was still three sovereigns. She sighed longingly as she stroked the fine rope-work on the staff.

"Why don't you just buy it?" the dwarven shopkeeper asked as he watched her.

"To me it costs a fortune," Paden said. "It's been nearly a year since I've held that much money in my hand at once."

"You're from Ferelden aren't you?"

Paden nodded.

"I see," the shopkeeper said in understanding. There was no shortage of Ferelden refugees in Kirkwall, and they all were in a similar plight; no decent place to live, no decent job to be had that payed a decent wage so they could afford to feed their families, let alone buying extra things like fancy mage staffs.

Paden sighed again and handed the staff back to the shopkeeper. She thanked him for indulging her once again, and moved on to the next vender booth.

She noticed that a shop called Trinkets Emporium sold some potions and other concoctions. Paden wondered if the proprietor might know the price of lyrium and where she might be able to get some.

She browsed the shelf filled with little potion bottles, and when she didn't see what she was looking for she asked the shopkeeper, "Do you ever deal in riskier items?"

"As in…?" the woman asked, arching one eyebrow.

"I'm looking for Lyrium potion," Paden said.

"Ah, well, I sometimes do carry some in stock. I have two vials right now actually. Would you like to buy them?"

"How much are they?"

The woman opened a small box she kept in a cupboard under the table. She pulled out a tiny vial filled with a bluish-white liquid that glowed softly. "I charge forty-two silver per bottle," she said.

"Per bottle?" Paden said, her hopes crashing. Where was she going to get enough for even one bottle? Now if she hadn't had to pay those men from the docks that thirty silver she would be more than half way there.

"Thank you," Paden said as she handed the vial back. "Perhaps another time."

The shop keeper put the vial away. "I usually have at least one in stock," she said.

"Where do you get it?" Paden asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Oh, I have…friends in high and low places," the shop keeper said. "Let's just leave it at that."

"Fair enough," Paden said. "I'll be back."

The shop keeper held up her hand to stop Paden from leaving. "If you're hurting for coin to buy the potion with, I do take trades, if you've got anything."

"Really? What sorts of things are you looking for?"

"Anything with resale value," the shop keeper said. "As long as its value is at least equal to what you want from my shop."

Paden smiled. "Thank you. I'll definitely be back."

A small spark of hope flared inside Paden. Here was a chance to get what she needed even though she had no coin. Her family didn't own a lot of things, but she would trade anything she owned, plus she would be keeping her eyes pealed for anything else she could pick up in her travels. She _would_ get that Lyrium potion eventually, and she _would_ get that staff one day as well. In that moment she made a decision that this was not going to be her lot in life forever. She would change things for her family, and it would be her new goal; the only thing that mattered.

With renewed purpose she headed home, feeling much better.


	5. Partners in Adventure

**Act One**

**Chapter Five**

**Partners in Adventure**

_Three Months Later_

Paden Hawke stood at the bar in Lowtown's Hanged Man Pub, nearly empty mug in hand, listening to the local gossip. The Hanged Man was reputably the best pub in all of Kirkwall, and since Paden had never bothered to frequent any other pubs, she couldn't dispute that. It was a rough sort of place, just as anything in Lowtown was, but they had cheap ale, and cheap was something Paden liked.

The bartender, Corff, set a full mug on the counter in front of Paden. "So, did you hear about that Qunari ship that crashed in the storm a couple months ago?" he asked her.

"Of course. The Viscount put them all up in a private quarter by the docks. It's sort of old news, Corff."

"But did you know they're still there?" Corff asked. "They claim they're waiting for another ship to come get them, but there's been no sign of any Qunari ships all this time."

"Well, I imagine it takes a bit longer than two months to sail all the way from Par Vollen," Paden said.

The bartender seemed to consider that for the first time. "Hm, never thought of that."

Paden chuckled and then took a sip of her drink. She squinted her eyes and blinked rapidly in response to the bitter taste of the ale, but with each sip her tolerance increased. Or maybe her senses were just being dulled. In any case, the more she drank of the ale the more she enjoyed it.

Just then the door to the pub opened and Carver walked in. Paden waved him over.

"Why'd you want to meet me here?" he asked, as Paden motioned for the barkeep to bring Carver a drink.

"Because we've got something to celebrate, Brother. It's our anniversary today."

"Anniversary? Of what?" Carver asked. He took a tentative sip of his ale.

"It's been one year today since we started working for Athenril."

Carver arched his eyebrows. "That's right. So does that mean…"

Paden nodded with a grin. "Yep, we're free and clear, Brother dear. No more working our tails off for nothing."

"I can drink to that," Carver said, and raised his mug, a rare grin splitting his face.

Paden motioned for them to take seats at a nearby table. After a moment of drinking in silence Carver asked, "Did you tell mother?"

"Of course. I ran home to tell her as soon as Athenril released me."

"I bet she's happy."

"Happier, anyway. As happy as she can be I suppose."

Another moment of silence.

"Did you punch out Athenril before you left?" Carver asked.

Paden chuckled and shook her head. "But I sure wanted to. Especially when she tried to convince me our year wasn't up yet."

"Oh, great," Carver said. "More arguing then? Your temper is going to cost us some day. People talk you know. What'd you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you left. You say you didn't punch her out, but I doubt you left it at that."

"There…may have been a scene," Paden admitted. "But I wasn't going to let her cheat us, and there is no way I didn't know the exact day we could say good riddance to her forever. I wrote it in my journal when we got the job and have been counting the days ever since."

"The way you two have been at each other's throats this last week it's a wonder we kept our job to the last day," Carver said.

"Well, it's all in the past now," Paden said with the wave of her hand.

She took another sip of her drink and then stared down into her mug in silence, watching the bits of white foam floating on the dark liquid.

The last year had been very hard, and it had worn Paden's patience thin, but Carver's more so, she guessed. He often resented the fact that she was a mage—not that she had any choice in the matter. But he resented that a lot of the trouble they had was because of that fact. They were in perpetual hiding, in fear that the Templars would get wind of Paden and haul the whole lot of them off to the Gallows. Every time she went against Athenril's authority or made a scene in public, every time Paden drew attention to herself in any way, she risked exposure. And working for a smuggler wasn't the best way to avoid attention. They needed to start fresh, to find something that could set them up for life so they could lay low and mind their own business. And Paden had a plan.

"So, now what are we going to do?" Carver asked. "This last year of hiding and being dirt poor all the time has really worn thin."

"I couldn't agree more," Paden said, smiling, as they seemed to be on the same track in that moment. "And I think I already have an answer for that."

"Already?"

Paden took a sip of her ale before elaborating. "The other day I did some snooping in Hightown. I found out about an expedition that's leaving soon for the Deep Roads. They're hiring adventurers."

"The Deep Roads? You mean, the ancient dwarven underground cities Deep Roads?"

Paden nodded. "Those are the ones."

"You mean the abandoned, crumbling, infested with Darkspawn Deep Roads?"

"The same, Carver."

"And you want us to hire on to this expedition? What's the pay?"

"Don't know exactly, I haven't talked to the expedition's leader yet. But I hear it's a good amount."

"Why in Thedas would we want to throw ourselves in front of more Darkspawn?" Carver said. "Haven't we seen enough of them?"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't jump at the chance to avenge Bethany," Paden said. "If we go that's what I intend to do."

"You do have a point," Carver admitted thoughtfully. "Might feel good to remove a few Darkspawn heads, for personal satisfaction if nothing else."

"Now you're getting the idea," Paden said. "And anyway, we could really use the coin. If the amount I heard is true than this could be all we need to start over."

"What's the expedition for?" Carver asked.

"Treasure hunting I think. Supposedly those old dwarven thaigs are filled with all kinds of treasure."

"If we go on the expedition will we be able to keep any of it?"

"I guess we'll find that out tomorrow," Paden said. "I heard that the expedition's leader—some dwarf named Bartrand Tethras—will be in his office in the Dwarven Merchants Guild tomorrow afternoon. You and I will go talk to him."

"You know mother's not going to like this," Carver said.

Paden considered that. "She probably won't. But this is the only lead we have right now. I've been looking for work for the last two weeks. No one's hiring Fereldens. At lest not anyone who pays a decent wage."

"Still?" Carver said.

"Refugees have been coming in every day until a couple weeks ago. The Blight only just ended, and so far no one's rushing to return to Ferelden."

"Including us," Carver said.

"You want to go back?" Paden said in mild surprise.

Carver shook his head. "No, I don't. Lothering is gone. What would be the point?"

"I heard they're trying to rebuild," Paden said softly.

"Do _you_ want to go back?"

Paden shook her head. "No, not really. There're no happy memories left there."

Carver nodded his agreement, and the two siblings nursed their drinks in silence as some of those memories resurfaced.

—

The next day the two of them made the trek to Hightown and the Dwarven Merchants Guild, which was located in an area of Hightown where mostly dwarves lived and did business, and there was a dwarven market there too. They found the office of Bartrand Tethras and went inside.

"Excuse me," Paden said to the first dwarf she saw. "I'm looking for Bartrand."

"Well, you found him," the dwarf said, his voice rough and gravely. Bartrand had long blond hair in a ponytail, and a long beard that was woven into six braids. "What do you want?" the dwarf asked, as he stood from the chair at his desk.

"We heard about your expedition," Paden said.

"Oh, did you now? Well, good for you." Bartrand walked past them, heading for the door of his office

Paden and Carver exchanged a glance and followed him. "We heard you were hiring adventurers," Paden said.

"So?" Bartrand said.

"So…we're applying," Paden pressed.

Bartrand walked out onto the street, shaking his head. "No."

"No? That's it?" Carver said. "You haven't even heard about our skills yet."

"No!" Bartrand said again. "Andraste's tits, human. You know how many people want to hire on to this expedition?"

Carver glanced at Paden as they kept pace with the dwarf. It looked like this wouldn't be as easy as it had at first sounded. "Look," he said, "We know you're going into the Deep Roads. You'll need to hire the best, and we're—"

"No." Bartrand stopped walking and turned to face them. "You're too late, already done."

Carver persisted. "But we've fought Darkspawn before. How many people have applied with that skill? You need us."

Bartrand rubbed his eyes as if he were weary. "Look, Precious, I don't care if you tore the horns off an ogre with your bare hands."

Carver sighed and turned to Paden. "_You_ make him understand. We're running from _your_ bloody Templars."

"My brother has a point," Paden said. She sent a pointed glance at Carver. "It's on his head, but it's still valid."

"Oh, thanks for that," Carver said, rolling his eyes.

"Consider it, Bartrand? We're just what you need."

"You're looking for a quick way out of the slums, right?" Bartrand said. "You and every other Fereldan in this dump." He turned to leave. "Find another meal ticket."

Carver sighed again as they watched Bartrand walk away. "Well, back to waiting for someone to turn us in."

"_You_ can relax," Paden said sarcastically. "After all, the Templars dogging us are _mine_."

"Did I sound that bad?" Carver said in surprise. "Maker, I'm turning into Gamlen!" They turned and began making their way out of the Merchants Guild. "Gamlen…" Carver considered. "He's got a head for this garbage. Maybe he can talk to Bartrand. He knows some people. After last week we need all the coin and influence we can get."

Paden blew out a scoff. "It's Gamlen's fault we're in this mess."

"Well, he did get us into the city, right? What else can we do? I don't know how she did it, but Athenril kept us safe from the Templars. We don't have that protection anymore, and I don't fancy waking up in the Gallows."

"And you think it's something I'm looking forward to? Andraste's knickers, Carver, you don't have to keep reminding me about the bloody Templars!"

"Shout a little louder, Paden, and they'll be here to remind you themselves."

Paden drew a slow breath, but the glare she sent her brother was just as intense as before. But at the moment she didn't have a better plan to offer him.

So now they were back to asking Gamlen for help? The last time he helped them they had ended up in servitude for a year. Could they never get ahead?

Paden's thoughts were interrupted when a young man bumped into her as he passed by. At first she thought nothing of it, but a second later she realized her coin purse was no longer in her pocket.

"Hey!" she shouted after the man, who took off running.

He didn't get very far, however. At the end of the street an invisible force suddenly threw him against the wall and pinned him there. The reason was made clear a second later when a dwarf with a huge crossbow stepped out of the shadows of the building across the street from the thief. The invisible force had been a crossbow bolt, aimed so precisely that it had pinned the man's shirt to the wall without puncturing any skin.

The dwarf retracted his crossbow and slung it on his back as he crossed the street to the thief. "I knew a guy once who could take all the money out of your pockets just by smiling at you," he said. "But you? You don't have the style to work Hightown, let alone the Merchants Guild." He held out his hand, palm up.

The thief, completely intimidated and out of his element, dropped the coin purse into the dwarf's hand.

"You might want to find yourself a new line of work," the dwarf said, and then punched the pickpocket in the face. The man sagged, held up only by the shoulder of his shirt that was still pinned to the wall.

"Off you go," the dwarf said, and pulled the bolt out. The pickpocket fell to the ground groaning.

The dwarf approached Paden and Carver, twirling the crossbow bolt between his fingers, a grin on his face. The first thing Paden noticed about him was that he was clean shaven, which was unusual for a dwarf. He had blond hair a lot like Bartrand's, the front tied back. Around his neck he wore a heavy beaded necklace, and his tunic was open down the front revealing quite a hairy chest. He walked up to them with so much swagger that Paden couldn't help but feel charmed.

The dwarf tossed the coin purse to Paden—which she caught—and then he twirled the crossbow bolt back into its quiver. "How do you?" he said. "Varric Tethras, at your service."

"A pleasure," Paden said with a nod. "You can call me Hawke. Thank you for your help."

Varric waved it away. "I apologize for Bartrand," He said. "He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"But you would?" Paden asked, arching one eyebrow.

"I would," Varric said with a smile. "What my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you. He would never admit it either; he's too proud. I, however, am quite practical."

"So you're part of Bartrand's venture?"

"That's right," Varric said. "The deep roads wouldn't normally be my thing, but I can't allow the head of my family to go down there alone. So, as you might imagine, I have more than a passing interest in this expedition's success."

Paden narrowed her eyes warily. "What makes you so certain we can help?" she asked. "You know nothing about us." And she hoped that was true.

"Oh, on the contrary," Varric said. "You've made quite a name for yourself over the last year. The Coterie's been squeezing smugglers out left and right. The only group to survive owes it all to you. The name Hawke is on many lips these days."

"I didn't realize we had become so famous," Paden admitted hesitantly.

Varric chuckled. "Not bad for a Ferelden fresh off the boat."

Paden shook her head. "If I were any other Fereldan maybe I wouldn't mind so much." She gestured to Carver. "So you must have heard of my brother as well then," she said.

"A little, yes," Varric said. "But it is you they speak most of, messere."

"That figures," Carver said, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Your brother is certainly welcome to join us, by all means. But I'll leave that in your hands."

"Oh, I'm going," Carver said firmly. "Without this expedition we won't last out the year."

Paden considered. "There must be some way to persuade your brother to hire us on."

"We don't need another hireling," Varric said. "We need a partner."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. "A partner?"

"The truth is Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to fund this on his own, but he can't do it. " Varric pointed his finger at Paden and gave her a conspiratorial smile. "If you invest in the expedition, say… fifty sovereigns, he won't refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you."

Would it really work that easily? "Your brother doesn't seem like the sort who's willing to split profits," Paden said, still not fully satisfied.

"My brother is many things," Varric said. "But he is not stupid. Better to share the profits than be trapped in a thaig with a thousand darkspawn between you and the exit. Trust me; he'll come around."

"It sounds interesting," Paden admitted, and bit her lip as she exchanged a look with her brother. "It's just…if I had any gold I wouldn't need this job." Fifty sovereigns! Was he out of his mind? Where would they ever come up with that much money quickly?

"You need to think big," Varric said, throwing his arms wide. "There's only a brief window after a Blight when the Deep Roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure that you find down there could set you and your family up for life."

Carver nudged Paden in the arm. "Come on. The dwarf makes some sense. You started this, and I think it's a good idea. Certainly better than ending up in the Gallows."

Varric smiled. "We work together, you and I, and before you know it, you'll have all the capital you need. What do you say?"

Paden frowned at the dwarf. "What makes you so certain you'll be useful to me?"

Varric shrugged and smiled. "I know everyone in this city worth knowing. I can help you find the jobs you need, and if you don't need me for that, there's always Bianca." He pointed a thumb at the crossbow slung on his back.

Paden arched an amused eyebrow. "You named your crossbow?"

"And why not? She's a beauty." He looked over his shoulder at the weapon. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Paden put a hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle, and exchanged a look with Carver.

Varric looked back at them and grinned. "Yeah, Bianca's gotten me out of a lot of scrapes over the years."

"I imagine she has," Paden agreed. She liked this dwarf, and somehow she trusted him. He had this sense of honest sincerity about him that could not be mistaken. An unspoken assurance that he wouldn't double cross them or leave them in a ditch. She couldn't say anything of the kind about Bartrand. But she decided not to worry about Bartrand. It was Varric she was really partnering with and Varric she would be dealing with. Bartrand could go suck an egg.

She held but her hand to the dwarf. "All right, Varric," she said. "We'll give this a shot."

Varric grinned. "Perfect. Kirkwall's crawling with one-shot jobs. If you know where to look they're easy to get, and usually pay well. You set aside some coin from every job and you'll have the money in no time."

"Sure, no time," Carver said sarcastically. "It's just that easy to get work. It's a wonder why we've been having so much trouble." Then he had a thought. "But…maybe Aveline's got some bounties out. She joined the City Guard, right?"

Paden nodded. "She did. I suppose we can ask her."

Varric seemed pleased they were finally on board with his idea. "We should talk again later when you get the chance. You can find me in the Hanged Man pretty much any time. The sooner the better, and I'll be trying to drum up some work for you in the mean time.

"Thank you, Varric," Paden said. "I'll probably see you there later this evening then." They bid farewell to the dwarf, and then continued on their way through the streets of Hightown.

"Well, things are finally looking up," Carver said.

"Maybe so," Paden said. "But I don't see how we can make fifty gold in 'no time'. If it was that easy why are there still poor refugees on every corner?"

"I agree, but…let's just start with baby steps," Carver said. "The dwarf seems to think it will work. Besides, what's the matter with you? You're always the optimistic one."

Paden sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Just tired I guess. Let's go. Your idea about checking in with Aveline is a good one. I can't even remember the last time I talked to her, though."

"It's been even longer for me," Carver said.

They headed in the direction of the Viscount's Keep where the City Guard had its headquarters. As they walked Paden pondered all that had transpired. Maybe this was a good thing, becoming a partner in the Deep Roads expedition. It was a lot more than she had hoped for, that's for sure. The next few weeks would be interesting indeed.


	6. Checking on Aveline

**Act One**

**Chapter Six**

**Checking on Aveline**

The main hall of the Viscount's Keep was designed to impress, or intimidate, depending on who you were and why you were there. Lofty marble columns held up a ceiling so high that it was nearly obscured in the smokey haze generated from the numerous candles and lamps needed to light the place. Thick red carpets covered the walkways and stairs, with the tiled surfaces and gilded trimmings of the bannisters polished to a high sheen.

Paden's footsteps echoed in the grand hall as she and Carver entered the massive front doors. She had been here only a few times since Aveline joined the Guard. Paden didn't like coming here. The fancy architecture and outrageous size of the place, while admittedly impressive, spoke to Paden of nothing more than power generated by wealth. When Paden thought of wealth it reminded her of the pompous fools she'd see on the streets in Hightown, strutting about like peacocks in mating season. It was all silly, and Paden was not impressed.

Though she _was_ intimidated, but not by what most people in here would think. To her the polished marble, thick carpets and fancy banners were just things, and she was not afraid of things. There was a greater threat in this place, one that was very real and ever present.

As she mounted the steps of the grand staircase at the back of the hall, she glanced at the guards who stood at either side, keeping a silent vigil. While they did not wear the flaming sword emblazoned armor of the Templars, they seemed—in Paden's mind at least—like an efficient extension to that army. The City Guard regularly turned mages over to the Gallows. Paden understood why they did it; apostates were illegal and was the Guard's duty to uphold the law, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach.

Paden could see the eyes of the guard on the landing staring at her through the slit in his helmet as she ascended the steps in front of him. A steady, unblinking gaze that spoke volumes to Paden. He knew what she was, and friend of a fellow Guard or not, he was watching her. If she made one wrong move, he would know about it, and he would act.

That is why Paden hated coming here, and that was probably the reason why she hadn't seen Avaline in over a month. This was Avaline's home, and she was usually too busy to leave it in order to visit friends.

The fault couldn't be laid solely on Aveline though, since Paden was just as guilty for letting their relationship fall through the cracks. She never _tried_ seeking out Aveline. Never sent her letters asking if they could meet away from the Keep. She never invited Aveline to join her and Carver at the Hanged Man for a drink, or on a shopping trip in the market. Sometimes the realization of that made Paden feel guilty. After everything they had gone through together they should be more than friends; they should be family.

And yet, Paden never felt that sort of connection with Aveline. Friendship, yes, to some degree, but definitely not kinship. She didn't know why. Maybe it was because she and Aveline often had very differing viewpoints, sometimes to the extent of rivalry. Paden was a mage, and an apostate at that. Avaline's late husband had been a Templar, and even though Aveline insisted that fact never colored her views on the issue, Paden wasn't so sure.

But Aveline was loyal, and even though they weren't close, she kept Paden's secret. Even after she joined the Guard, Aveline made a point of looking the other way when it came to things Paden had to do for Athenril—many of which were illegal activities. Paden owed a lot to Aveline.

They had to walk past two more guards stationed in a side hall before descending a long staircase into the barracks. There were even more guards here, since this is where they lived. But luckily most of them were off duty and too busy with their own affairs to notice Paden as she and Carver walked by. Still, Paden never relaxed her guard.

A quick glance around the common room of the barracks revealed Avaline standing by the duty roster. Even though her back was turned, and she wore the same uniform as everyone else in the room, her bright red hair and Wesley's Templar shield strapped to her back gave her away. Aveline could never bring herself to trade in Wesley's shied for the standard issue Guard shield. Even a year after Wesley's death she still carried it faithfully. Paden admired that about her.

"Avaline!" Paden called with a ready smile.

Aveline's head stilted slightly, but she didn't turn around or even look over her shoulder. "Hawke," she acknowledged, as if they had just spoken hours ago.

Paden arched an eyebrow and exchanged a perplexed look with Carver. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" she said to her friend.

"What?" Avaline said, finally turning around, an equally perplexed look on her face. "Oh, right, sorry. It feels like we just talked. I've been keeping an eye on you." She motioned for them to move to an empty corner where they could talk more privately.

Paden frowned. "You know I don't like it when you have people watch me," she said. "It keeps me on high alert all the time, as if I didn't have enough to worry about."

"It saves me from camping on your doorstep," Aveline countered. "After what we went through to get here I—" She stopped, swallowed thickly and glanced away.

Paden watched her closely, waiting for her to finish. But she knew she wouldn't. Aveline never openly expressed personal feelings, no matter how strongly she felt them. Instead of visiting Paden herself, or exchanging letters to make sure her friend was doing all right, she posted spies to keep her updated on Paden's wellbeing. Paden knew she should be flattered and grateful, but instead it only irritated her. Sometimes being strong got in the way of being happy. Paden knew this truth all too well.

"Well, you're no child," Aveline finally said, defaulting just as Paden had predicted. "But I take care of my friends, Hawke."

"Well, thank you, Aveline," Paden managed. "But I haven't seen you in a while, how are you doing?"

Aveline shrugged and turned her gaze to the duty roster. "Bored," she admitted with a little sigh. "I've been pushed out to some dead patrols. Maybe I stepped on someone's toes."

Paden forced back a smile and kept her voice even, since Aveline never appreciated Paden's wisecracking sense of humor. "You can be…forceful," she said carefully.

Aveline actually smiled. "My charm, right?"

Paden couldn't help but chuckle. "You wouldn't be you without it." She paused. "Are you still having trouble? I thought you were past all that."

When Aveline had first joined the Guard they had given her a hard time because she was Fereldan. She had to work double-time, double-effort to gain the respect of her superiors and even her peers.

"So did I," Aveline admitted thoughtfully. "But lately I don't know."

Paden scuffed her foot on the tile floor and looked down at the faint mark her boot made. Anything to avoid meeting Avaline's green-eyed gaze as she asked her next question.

"It's been a year settling in," she said carefully. "Are you…all right?" She cast a quick glance at her friend's face and saw Aveline's brow furrow in disapproval.

"You don't need to coddle me," Aveline said, slamming that door before it had a chance to open. "I am where I am. How close I hold my memories is my own business."

Paden raised her hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. "All right. Pardon my concern, but you don't seem very happy, even after all you've accomplished. You, a Fereldan, joined the Guard, _and_ made lieutenant in your first year. That's no small feat."

"You don't have to recite my accomplishments to me, Hawke." She sighed. "But…this uniform does make me stand taller than I sometimes feel."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. That was probably the first time she had ever heard Aveline admit any kind of weakness. "You miss serving King Cailan, don't you?"

Aveline fixed her gaze across the room and sighed again. "I loved that life," she said with a nod. "But there's a new king now, for a new Ferelden." She shook her head in amazement. "King Alistair, the Gray Warden. Who would have ever predicted that? But I guess he was there when the Archdemon fell. You can't fault an active hand." She shook her head and swept that aside with a vague gesture. "But that life is over. It ended at Ostagar." She glanced at Paden's brother. "You were there, Carver. Do you feel the same?"

Carver looked stonily at Aveline. "No," he said bluntly.

"All right then," Aveline said, furrowing her brow as she turned back to Paden. "Bit of a tit, your brother."

Paden chose not to acknowledge Aveline's comment about Carver. She knew her brother had suffered a lot emotionally in regards to the battle at Ostagar and the sacking of Lothering, and then the death of his twin sister. He never talked about any of it, but she could see the pain behind his eyes whenever either subject was brought up. Aveline had been there too, but everyone experiences a situation differently, and deals with the pain of it in their own ways. Carver chose to endure it in silence, and Paden had come to not only accept that, but to respect it as well.

"The Blight is over," she said instead. "You could go back to Lothering if you wanted to."

Aveline shook her head. "That was never home for me. It's just where the Horde pressed us, and wasn't the first village I saw fall." She glanced at Carver who was staring at the floor. "But you don't get used to people losing everything. They say you can't go home again. That proverb's supposed to be about maturity. It's not the same when you don't have the option."

Paden's gaze shifted to the doorpost that Aveline was leaning against, and that familiar knot began to form in her throat at the memory of that day. They had been among those who had lost everything. They had fled that smoking carnage with little more than the clothes on their backs. It was not the first time they had had to flee their home, but it was the first time they had had to flee a slaughter, for that's what it had been.

Even a year later Paden still had nightmares of that horrifying day. Of the homes burning, sending roiling black columns of smoke far into the sky, seen from miles around as they ran farther and farther away, tripping over the mutilated bodies of their friends and neighbors.

Another image abruptly flashed across her mind's eye. That huge ogre reaching down. Bethany's frail body breaking under the weight of that giant fist…

Paden shook her head quickly to clear it, and then drew a sharp breath. She swallowed hard and glanced around the room. "It's…not how I wanted to say goodbye," said softly, her voice cracking.

They stood there in a moment of uncomfortable silence; three people who were so emotionally constipated they couldn't even talk openly about a painful event of which they all shared memories. No comforting hugs or pats on the shoulder, or even words of condolence. Nothing that normal people would do when faced with grief. It was more important to keep up those walls. Paden shook her head in amazement. What a sorry lot they had become.

Carver interrupted Paden's thoughts with a soft cough, and then he poked her in the back. "Bounties?" he said softly, mercifully moving the subject away from uncomfortable territory.

"What?" Avaline asked, looking up at him.

"The reason we came here," Paden said after clearing her throat again. "I'm sure you know about that Deep Roads expedition we're partnering with?"

"Yes," Avaline said, folding her arms across her chest. "I take it you need coin to fund such a large venture."

"That's exactly it," Paden said. "We were hoping you had some bounties we could collect."

Avaline drew a deep breath and sighed it out slowly as she considered. "Actually, there is something I could use your help with. Foiling an ambush. Probably for a caravan, although I can't find any shipments that match up. But it doesn't matter. If there's highwaymen waiting for someone to rob, I'm putting a stop to it, my district or not."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. "You've been nosing around outside your commission?"

"I have contacts," Aveline said evasively. "I've heard some things, and they sound like they're worth checking out."

"But wouldn't you want to tell your fellow guards about this?"

"I will, if you sit on your hands," Aveline said. "I'll send my alerts and someone else will lead a patrol. But you wanted a job, and you're my friend, so I'm offering."

Paden glanced at Carver for his opinion, but he just shrugged. "All right, Aveline," she said. "We'll check it out with you. We do need the coin."

Avaline smiled slightly in appreciation. "They're hidden up Sundermount. Pretty remote, but we can make good time with a shortcut this side."

"Sundermount?" Paden said. "Haven't been up there in a while. Might be a nice chance to stretch our legs a bit. Just name a time."

"Tomorrow morning at dawn," Aveline said. "Meet me on the road outside the city."

"Tomorrow then," Paden said with a nod. "And thank you."

Paden and Carver left the barracks and made their way past all the guards in the main hall once again. This time Paden had to walk away from them, and she could feel their gazes boring into her back. She had to make a conscious effort to keep an even pace and not rush. The moment those huge doors closed behind her and she felt the cool breeze on her face and the sun on her hair, she felt her body deflate a little, as if keeping her guard up for that long had been physically exhausting. She had to convince Aveline to get out more.

"She's quite a ray of sunshine," Carver said sarcastically, unaware of his sister's inner struggle.

Paden glanced at him. "You're not exactly a summer afternoon yourself, little brother," she countered, though there was only friendly teasing in her tone.

"Aveline's never liked me," Carver defended.

"I wonder why," Paden muttered sarcastically. She shook her head before changing the subject, least they descend into yet another bickering argument that seemed to define their relationship. "Anyway, so we got a job. I just hope it pays decently."

"Or at all," Carver said as they began walking toward Lowtown. "She's going behind her captain's back, she can't exactly guarantee payment."

"No, she can't," Paden allowed hesitantly. "But she's a friend, Carver, she'll do her best."

"Well, in any case it will be good to do some honest work for once."

Paden flashed her brother an understanding smile. "I can't agree with you more, brother dear."

—

As Paden slid her key into the lock at Gamlen's apartment, she could hear raised voices through the door. She closed her eyes and drew a heavy sigh, pausing with her hand on the key for a moment.

They were arguing again. Whether it was about her uncle's gambling debts or the price of bread, it seemed like her mother and uncle could always find something to argue about. It reminded her of herself and Carver, though she was pretty sure that her mother and uncle were worse. At least she and Carver kept their more heated arguments private—most of the time.

"Wonder what it could be about this time," Carver said from behind her.

Paden sighed again and finally turned the key. "I don't even care anymore," she grumbled, and pushed the door open.

Leandra and Gamlen were standing by the fireplace, so intent on their argument that they didn't even notice Paden and Carver's return.

"I'm still their daughter, their eldest," Leandra was saying. "Gamlen, my children have been in servitude, _servitude_ for a year. They should be nobility!"

So they were talking about that again, were they? Mother still hadn't forgiven Gamlen for selling the estate, and was always willing to tell him so at the slightest provocation. Of course, Paden hadn't forgiven him either, but she preferred ignoring him to pointless arguing. Paden didn't really care about the estate in the end anyway. She didn't want to be nobility and live in Hightown. She didn't want to live the rest of her life in Gamlen's house either, but wasn't there some place in between where they could find happiness? The estate was gone; what was the use of arguing?

"If wishes were poppy we'd all be dreaming," Gamlen bit back.

Paden moved over to the desk and leaned her staff against the wall. "You mean this is real?" she interjected with humorous sarcasm. "No wonder I can't wake up." She looked down at the pile of letters on the desk and leafed through them. She could feel Gamlen's glare from across the room.

"And here I thought that Fereldan you ran off with was a mage, not a jester," he said to his sister. Then he moved over into Paden's line of sight as she picked up a letter to read. "Your mother was supposed to marry the Comte do Launcet," he said.

Paden held her hand out at arm's length, palm toward Gamlen. "You've told us this many times already, Uncle. I grow weary of hearing it."

But Gamlen was in mid rant and wouldn't be stopped that easily. "Well, instead she ran off with that Fereldan apostate," he said, nearly spitting out the last word.

Paden whirled on him. "Father wasn't just some Fereldan apostate," she said, trying to keep her voice under control. "He was a great man."

Gamlen scoffed. "Great at getting himself in trouble."

Paden's fists clenched as anger flushed her cheeks red. She took a step toward her uncle. "Gamlen, I swear, if you insult my father one more time…"

Leandra quickly inserted herself between them, holding her arms out to keep them apart. "Calm down, Paden." She glared at her brother. "You, too, Gamlen."

After a tense moment of glaring, Paden turned around and resumed her perusal of the mail, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she forced herself to calm down. Why did she have to get so riled up like that?

"I want to know where Father's will is," Leandra demanded of Gamlen.

So, they were talking about the will again. Mother had asked Gamlen before if she could see the will, but Gamlen always told her it was impossible, that it was out of reach, locked up on the estate.

"I told you," Gamlen said, irritated and defensive. "It was read, it went in the vault. No one needed to look at it again."

"But _I_ didn't get to see it," Leandra countered. "It's hard to believe that they left me nothing."

"Like I said, you weren't exactly the favorite anymore." Gamlen glanced at the door to his room, as if he were wishing he could retreat there.

Paden frowned. He seemed a tad too evasive. "Is Mother mentioned in the will at all?" she asked, since Gamlen hadn't, in all their arguments, ever actually denied it.

He sent her a glare. "How am I supposed to remember that? Our father died twenty-five years ago."

"Oh, that's convenient," Carver said, rolling his eyes.

"A bit touchy, Uncle," Paden said. Should she feel guilty that she enjoyed seeing Gamlen squirm? "I doubt you've forgotten it that completely. What's in there you don't want us to see?"

"Nothing," Gamlen insisted. But this time Paden could see the lie in his eyes.

Paden stared at him for several moments, her intense, green-eyed gaze making Gamlen squirm even more.

"Who bought the estate, Gamlen?" Leandra demanded. "I'm tired of you refusing to give me this information. I want to know. Was it the Rhinehearts?"

Gamlen shook his head and waved both hands in the air. "No, no one you know." He strode across the room to his bedroom door. "Get used to Lowtown, Sister; _that's_ where we're going to stay." He slammed the door behind him.

Leandra exchanged a look with her children, and Paden could see a glaze of tears in her eyes. Before her emotions could manifest more, she fled to the other bedroom and closed the door softly behind her, leaving Paden and Carver standing by the desk in silence.

Knowing what happened to the estate meant so much to her mother, Paden could see that now more than ever. Was she so eager to return to the life she ran from when she married Father? She used to hate that life, and often talked of her past as a nobleman's daughter with thinly veiled contempt. Was she regretting the life she chose with Father? That idea lodged itself in Paden's stomach and began burning a little hole there.

"Maker, what a mess," Carver said, scratching his scalp as he usually did when he felt uncomfortable. "I want to make things better for Mother, but some of what Gamlen says…" He shook his head. "I'm having a hard time hating him."

Paden looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "You are?"

"Playing caretaker for someone else's life," Carver explained. "Stuck in their shadow…that's no way to live."

Paden's jaw clenched and she turned her body to face him. "Something you need to say?" she demanded, trying not to feel hurt by that veiled jab at her expense. Always with the shadow bit. All her life she had never tried to hold Carver back, or to take any extra attention. In fact, she frequently would defer to him, to try to get him to put himself out there more, take the reigns and make something for himself. But he had himself so stuck in her shadow for so long that sometimes she wondered if he even _wanted_ to be outside of it. That would force him to actually think for himself, and maybe that was too frightening to face.

"Look," Carver said, "If you want to join the fight over who lost the most, fine. But I never lived here. I didn't know Grandfather. Finding his will doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't matter to me either," Paden said. "I don't care a hog's snort about the estate or the status or any of it." She moved closer to her brother, almost nose to nose. "But you know what? It _does_ matter to mother, and for that fact alone it should matter to you."

Carver turned his head to look away from her, but not before she saw the flash of guilt in his eyes. She stared at him for a moment, noticing his clenched jaw and rigid posture. He was still feeling defiant, but he wasn't arguing anymore. Carver cared about their mother just as much as Paden did.

"Besides," Paden said after a moment. "You're the one always looking for some connection to greatness."

Carver scoffed and shook his head as he unbuckled the strap of leather that held his great-sword on his back. "The once mighty Amells? No thank you. There's no glory to be found there. Only dust and slavers."

Paden arched an eyebrow at him. "Slavers? What do you mean? Have you heard something?"

Carver leaned his sword against the wall beside Paden's staff, and then he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while the other searched through the letters on the desk. "Uncle's a chatty drunk," he said absently, his attention divided between their conversation and one of the letters.

Paden waited while Carver paused to read. "And?" she pressed. "What did he say?"

Carver glanced back up at her. "He was up to his neck in bad debts. So he signed everything over to save his sorry hide."

"You mean he sold the estate to slavers?" Paden said, eyes wide.

Carver nodded. "Apparently the most extensive wine cellar in Kirkwall is now a slave highway from the Undercity." He blew a spluttery breath out between his lips as he returned half his attention to the letter again. "That's the family legacy," he muttered.

"Slavers," Paden said, pondering. She shook her head. "Mother would hate to hear about that."

"And that's why I haven't told her," Carver said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"We have to do something," Paden decided. "For Mother's sake, this has to change." She didn't _want_ the estate, but if it would make her mother happy, she would do what it took to get it back.

"And what if it does change?" Carver asked, folding the letter and tucking it into his pocket. He turned to face her. "What if the slavers are forced out? We're still not important enough to actually live in the place."

Paden's lips spread in a soft smile. "Baby steps, Carver," she reminded.

Carver sighed, giving in. "All right, Sister. If you want this, I may know a way to make it happen." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large key, holding it up in front of his face. "Mother gave me her old key, as a way to stir something in me, I guess. It didn't work. But it supposedly unlocks every door in the old estate."

Paden's smile broadened and her heart rate went up a notch, just like it always did when she saw disjointed things begin to fall into place.

"We should probably sneak in through the cellars," Carver suggested. "Might have a better chance at that than knocking on the front door and asking if we can have a look in the vault."

Paden was truly pleased that Carver was willing to work with her on this and come up with a plan, for mother's sake. It wasn't the most conventional plan, but it was one they were good at. Working for Athenril had given them some skills they wouldn't otherwise have learned, and for that Paden could be grateful.


	7. A Business Discussion

**Act One**

**Chapter Seven**

**A Business Discusion**

After making plans with Carver for their mission later that night, Paden went by herself to the Hanged Man to meet with Varric. He had a suite there, which he had been living in for some time now if all the accumulated stuff decorating the place was any indication.

Paden peeked her head in hesitantly and knocked on the open door. "Hello?" she called softly.

The dwarf came out of the adjoining bedroom and grinned when he saw her. "Hawke, good, you found me. Take a seat." He gestured to a chair at the large table that dominated the main room of the suite.

Paden sat down and folded her hands on her lap as she glanced around. The wall on her left was lined with three huge book cases, all filled with an assortment of dusty volumes. _Dane and the Werewolf, Cautionary Tales for the Adventurous,_ and _Traditional Dwarven Folk Songs, _were a few that caught Paden's eye at a glance. She would love to spend a few hours browsing Varric's collection. Paden loved books, but her family had owned only two or three since leaving Lothering. Not that she had a lot of time to read these days.

On the wall above the nearest bookcase was a huge impressionist's work of a city in the mountains. The design of it almost looked like it could be Kirkwall, or the Gallows even, but the setting was wrong. It made Paden frown as she studied it for a moment. She'd never cared much for impressionist art.

"Well, you have quite a collection of books," she commented.

"A lifetime's worth," Varric agreed, admiring the shelves.

"Have you read them all?"

The dwarf nodded. "Actually wrote a few of them myself." He pointed to a short row of plain, cloth bound volumes with no titles on their spines.

"So you're a writer then?" Paden said in surprise.

Varric chuckled and shook his head. "No, not a writer. I'm a storyteller. There is a difference." He waved it away. "I write some of the better ones down, for posterity. They're not published though."

"So, what sorts of stories do you tell?" Paden asked. "True ones or fairy tales?"

"Anything that pulls at the heart or ignites the imagination, Hawke. All my stories have a ring of truth to them."

Paden chuckled. "Just a ring of truth?"

Varric spread his hands. "Hey, if the truth is in there, who cares what it sounds like, right?"

Paden shook her head, chuckling again. "An interesting philosophy."

The dwarf grinned. "What can I say? It works for me."

He took a large rolled piece of parchment off a side board and laid it out on the table in front of Paden, placing a couple empty mugs on the corners to keep it from rolling back up. It was a map of the Free Marches around Kirkwall.

"So, here's the thing," Varric said, getting down to business. "We need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

"Any entrance would do, wouldn't it?" Paden said. "Well, unless a dragon's sitting in it I suppose."

Varric braced his hands on the edge of the table and stared down at the map. "We need an entrance that's close to our destination," he said. "But one that's not already plundered or filled with Darkspawn."

"And how do we find one of those?" Paden asked. "I doubt there's a monthly periodical that lists all the best locations and times for questing in the Deep Roads."

Varric chuckled at that. "_The Deep Roads Explorer: When to Go, What to Bring, and How to Survive._ If only it were that easy." He shook his head. "Bartrand had an entrance lined up, but it was a bust." He scratched his head as he gazed at the map. "I'll keep looking, but I did receive some new information that might be useful." He stood upright and looked at Paden. "There's a Gray Warden in the city, and if anyone knows how to get down there, it'll be him."

"Why would a Gray Warden know that?" Paden asked. The only thing she knew about Gray Wardens was that they fight Darkspawn, they stopped the Blight, and that one of them had just become King of Ferelden.

"The Warden's don't just fight Darkspawn," Varric said. "They forge into the Deep Roads all the time. And if he doesn't know, he might be able to point us to those who do."

"What's a Gray Warden doing in Kirkwall?" Paden asked.

Varric shrugged. "Who knows? Wardens never tell anyone what they're doing. But supposedly he came in with some other Ferelden refugees not long ago."

"So he's actually living in the city then? But how do we find him?"

"There's a Lowtown woman named Lirene who's been helping Fereldens. If we talk to her, maybe we learn where he is."

"Lirene?" Paden said, recognizing the name. "As in Lirene's Ferelden Imports? The store by the Bazaar?"

"That's the one," Varric confirmed.

"I'll right, I'll go tomorrow," Paden said.

"I'll go with you," Varric offered.

Paden smiled and inclined her head in agreement. "So, now tell me more about this expedition, Varric. What are your plans, exactly?"

Varric blew a sputtery breath between his lips. "Bartrand's running the show," he said, a hint of distain in his voice. "Andraste's ass, he'd probably do that even if we weren't paying for everything." He sighed and shook his head. "The thaig we're looking for is supposed to be a weeks travel from the surface, so I hope you aren't scared of the dark."

Paden chuckled. "Me, afraid of the dark? I've spent the last year working at night in a crime-infested city. As long as there are no Templars in the Deep Roads I think I'll be fine."

"So the threat of Darkspawn doesn't scare you then?" Varric asked with an arched eyebrow.

Paden shrugged. "It's nothing I haven't faced before." In truth the idea of facing hundreds of Darkspawn on their own turf did scare her. She just tried not to think about it.

"That's right," Varric said, pointing a finger at her. "I hear you killed an ogre." He chuckled in amazement. "I'd like to know what was going through your head in that moment."

Paden's smile faded slightly as memories of that horrible moment rushed back to the forefront. Bethany lying on the ground, crushed and bleeding. She shoved the images aside and forced on a smile. "Well, for the first few seconds I thought, 'what _do_ they feed those things?'" It was a witty lie to cover the horrible grief and guilt she really felt. A quick way to shrug off the topic without revealing what was behind her carefully constructed mask.

It seemed to work on Varric. He laughed and shook his head in amazement. "I've never met anyone else who's even seen one. You're lucky just to be sitting there."

Was she? Was she really that lucky? Bethany sure hadn't been. But Paden kept that fake smile on her face, never once even hinting that this conversation was tying her stomach up in knots. She had to get the topic back on track.

"So is there nothing left to plan out then?" she asked.

Varric shrugged. "We've got the supplies, muscle, excavators… the plan is to carry out everything that's not nailed down. The only thing we still need is an actual entrance."

"So, what do we do, then, if this Gray Warden can't help us? Are there no other options?"

Varric sighed. "None at the moment. I'll keep looking. But if we don't find something, we'll have a fancy expedition with nowhere to go."

Paden chuckled. "Sounds like you have it all planned out, Varric."

He bowed dramatically. "And that, messere, is why I'm here."

Paden chuckled again as Varric gathered up the map. she decided that she liked this dwarf. His easy-going manner and ready smile made him a pleasure to be around. He seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders, and Paden was feeling more and more confident about the expedition. They needed only two more things; the money and an entrance. Success was just at the tips of their fingers. So, so close.

Varric put the rolled map back on the sideboard and then turned around to face Paden again. "So, that brother of yours…" he said, and arched an eyebrow at her.

Paden laughed shortly as she fingered the handle of one of empty mugs that had held the map down. "That's a loaded sentence if I've ever heard one."

"Does he have a particular problem or was he born that way?"

Paden shook her head, her gaze locked on the mug. "He's…trying to work things out for himself," she said. "And he suffers from being the younger brother."

"I know all about that," Varric said. "Maybe I can give him a few pointers."

"You're welcome to try," Paden said. "But I'll warn you right now, he has a sense of humor the size of a pea."

Varric snorted and waved it away. "I am not easily intimidated, Hawke. No worries."

Paden sighed and rested her elbows on the table. "There's this thing…" she hesitated, desperately wishing she had someone to talk to, but not sure if Varric could or should be that person. After all, she barely knew him, and he had no reason to care about her apart from their business arrangement. She shook her head and didn't finish her sentence.

Varric waited a moment before prompting, "This thing?"

She shook her head again. "Nothing…just family business. Carver's not really on board with it. But it's important to me, to our mother."

"Anything I can help with?" Varric asked.

Paden smiled slightly. "It's kind of you to ask, but I don't see how. Not unless you know the Viscount and can convince him to let us have our family estate back."

"Afraid not," Varric said. "So your family has—or had—an estate, in Hightown?"

Paden nodded. "My mother is an Amell. Before I was born our family was very well respected in Kirkwall. But…my uncle sold the estate to pay off a debt, and now we're all forced to live in the slums. He claims that my mother didn't inherit a single copper when grandfather died, but I don't believe him."

"You think he's lying?" Varric asked.

"He's not exactly forthcoming about any of it," Paden said. "And he's really defensive. And he conveniently left the will locked in the vault in the old estate when he sold it. So there's no way to prove our suspicions short of storming the estate and seeing for ourselves."

"So, when are you planning that little midnight raid?" Varric asked.

Paden laughed. "What makes you think we'd ever do such a thing?"

"Come on, Hawke, I know more about you than you realize; I've been following your work for a long time. You're not the type to sit back and let others tell you what to do or how to live."

Paden considered that. In a way he was right; she didn't like being told what to do or how to live, and that was the main reason why she and Athenril clashed so often. But Varric didn't really know her, not the real her. He knew the woman she had been forced to become since arriving in Kirkwall. That woman had been forced to be strong, all the time, with no compromise. That woman had been forced to endure things most women only worried about in their worst nightmares. That woman had been forced to be on the run for her life for more than a year now, and she was tired. Tired to the bone.

Paden didn't want to be that woman anymore. She didn't want to be strong all the time. Sometimes she just wanted to break down and cry on someone's shoulder. She wanted a normal life, one of quiet happiness, a husband, and possibly children one day. A life of normal days filled with normal activities.

But Varric didn't know that Paden Hawke. He likely never would.

She inclined her head in agreement to his statement. "Well, if you must know, we're planning on sneaking in tonight. Carver has a key to the old cellar door that opens in Darktown. We could potentially sneak in and out without anyone realizing."

"And you were going to go on this little adventure without me?" Varric asked, putting on a mock hurt tone.

"Well, it's not exactly something you ask your new business partner," Paden pointed out.

"Maybe so," Varric said, spreading his hands. "But I'm a storyteller, Hawke. I can't exactly tell stories if I'm never there to see them."

Paden chuckled. "I guess you have a point. Well, Varric, if you'd like to come along I won't turn away your help, that's for sure. Truth be told I have no idea what we're getting ourselves into. We may need all the help we can get."


	8. Finding Proof

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's been so long since I've posted an update. I took a break from writing any new chapters so I could focus on _rewriting_ the posted ones. I wasn't happy with a lot of what I had written, as it wasn't up to par with my usual work, since this is my first fan fiction and I was struggling to find my own voice among the canon material. I'm finally starting to find my footing and I knew I could do so much better with those first chapters. So I'm finally finished rewriting, and am now back on track with getting new stuff out. I'll be posting the rewritten versions of the previous 7 chapters soon, as soon I get them back from my beta. But in the mean time I'll now be posting new chapters, and I'll let you all know when I update the old ones, because you're definitely going to want to go back and read them once I do.

**Act One**

**Chapter Eight**

**Finding Proof**

In the late evening Paden reclined on her bunk, studying her father's grimoire, trying to learn some new helpful spells. Malcolm Hawke had done a lot of experimenting, and often different entries were crossed out and new ones written into the margins. It was slow reading as she tried to make sense of it all, but she was determined to learn as much as she could. Her father had taught her a little in the arcane school of magic—mostly defensive spells and shields—but primarily from the primal school, namely the spells that commanded the elements. She favored fire and lightening over frost—especially lightening. There was just something about the feeling of electricity dancing between her fingers that gave Paden a thrill like no other spell could. She loved lightening. When she was a little girl, before her magic had ever manifested, she used to sit under the eaves of her family's house during a thunder storm and watch the lightening show on the horizon. Her father would often sit and watch it with her, both of them still and silent, in awe of nature's might. Even the most powerful mage in Thedas could never hope to achieve the awesome, spine tingling, earth shattering power that was a summer lightening storm. Nature would always rule over man.

As much as Paden loved lightening and fire, though, in her new life in Kirkwall she had come to see very quickly that fire and lightening weren't always the best choices in a fight if she didn't want to give away her secret to unsympathetic observers. So her father's grimoire had become a constant companion during her off hours, as she poured over the handwritten pages, looking for spells that were effective without flare. It was a tedious endeavor, and finding time and places to practice the new spells was even more difficult. But she was nothing if not determined, and once Paden Hawke set her mind to something, she would accomplish it, no matter the hardship or inconvenience.

She was just starting to feel drowsy when Gamlen's voice suddenly cut through the silence as only it could.

"Paden, there's a dwarf at the door, claims he's a friend of yours."

Paden closed the book and rapped her fist on the bottom of the bunk above her. "Carver, he's here. Let's go." She hurried out of her bed, already fully dressed and ready for anything. She quickly tied her light red hair back into a low ponytail, and then grabbed her staff from where it leaned against the wall by the door.

Carver climbed down from the top bunk and strapped his big two-handed sword to his back. Out in the in the main room they could hear Varric chatting with Gamlen. Their uncle's hosting manners were sorely lacking.

"Good evening, Varric," Paden said as she left the bedroom. "I see you've already met my uncle. He also doubles as a guard dog, but don't worry, his bark is worse than his bite."

Varric chuckled lightly while Gamlen glared at Paden.

"You're all foolish in what you're doing," Gamlen said. "Sneaking back onto the estate. You'll not find anything but trouble."

"Glad to see you caring about our well-being, Uncle," Paden said. "Don't wait up for us."

They moved to the door but Leandra stopped them. "You two be careful," she said, her brow creased with worry. "I'm not sure how much I like this idea. Messing with slavers isn't something to take lightly."

"No worries, Mother, we'll be careful," Paden assured, giving the woman a confident smile.

They left the house and made their way through Lowtown in the dark. A half moon made a little bit of light to see by, and there were a few lanterns still lit in windows and over doorways.

Of course, they were heading into Darktown, and there the moon would no longer be visible from any vantage point. Darktown was the undercity; a maze of old mining tunnels and chambers that were, unfortunately, home to hundreds of citizens—mostly refugees—and elves that weren't lucky enough to live in the alienage. There were no homes down there, but only tents around campfires, or if one was lucky perhaps a shack made from scrap wood and cloth. It was a smelly place, dank and musty, and easy to get lost in.

Luckily Varric seemed somewhat familiar with the main passages, and Paden was very grateful they brought him along.

"So what exactly do you do, Varric?" Paden asked.

"What do I do?" Varric said, glancing up at her. "About what?"

"I mean for a living," she clarified. "Are you a merchant, a mercenary? What?"

"I'm a younger son," Varric answered, somewhat unhelpfully. "It's a difficult and dangerous profession. A lot of us die of boredom."

That brought a sound from Carver that was a cross between a grunt and a snort. Paden suspected that her brother identified with what the dwarf said.

Varric looked back at him. "Ah, so you know what I'm talking about, eh, Junior?"

"More than a little," Carver confirmed.

"Well, fortunately for me, being Bartrand's younger brother keeps me on my toes." The dwarf glanced back at Carver again. "I imagine being Hawke's younger brother keeps you entertained."

Carver scoffed and shook his head. "More like out-shined, outclassed and in perpetual shadow."

Paden rolled her eyes. "Would you two stop talking about me like I'm not even here?"

They rounded a bend and went up a couple flights of stairs, then down a long passage. Paden walked slightly ahead of the others, focused on their mission. Until they came to a T in the passageway. Paden stopped. "Which way, Varric?" she asked.

"Hm, I think we should go right. It's been a while since I've been down here though."

Without a better option they went right.

"So, you think you're walking in your sister's shadow, is that right?" Varric asked Carver after another moment of silence.

"I don't just think it; it's true," Carver said. "Everywhere we go _she's_ the one people notice."

"Well, you have to admit, she is prettier than you," Varric said, which made Paden smile.

"Oh, shut it, dwarf," Carver said. "You think you understand, but you don't. You obviously don't care about being anything _other_ than a shadow."

"But you do," Varric said. "So what are you doing about it?"

Carver had no answer for that, and they walked on for some time in silence.

Soon they came to the farthest edge of Darktown, the only part that ever saw any daylight. It was open in many places, looking out over the narrow channel that led into the harbor. It also had a perfect view of the giant chains. And the clanging sounds they made as they swayed in the wind echoed through the passageways day and night. They were getting close. Varric had suggested the entrance to the cellar would be on this side.

"You know, Junior, you're looking at this whole shadow thing all wrong," Varric said.

Carver sighed. "Whatever it is you're about to say, I'm not interested."

"I'm a professional younger brother," Varric said. "Trust me, the center of attention's the worst place to be."

Paden glanced over her shoulder and saw Carver glaring at the dwarf.

"When things go wrong," Varric explained, "And they always do, that's where all the fingers point. Look at any kingdom in Thedas. You've got people who warm thrones, and people nobody sees who do the real work."

"And my sister is a queen in this scenario? Perfect," Carver said sarcastically.

Varric sighed and shook his head. "Point. Missing it. Ah well."

"Would you two shut it?" Paden said. "We're getting really close; we need to pay attention."

To their credit the men agreed and stopped their bickering. They came to an open area where there were several closed doors. They wandered around for a minute, trying to figure out which one it was.

"This looks like the place," Carver finally said as he matched the key to a lock. "If the cellars go this far, maybe we _were_ important."

"Those are some pretty big cellars," Varric agreed. "If they come all the way down here from Hightown."

Carver unlocked the door and they all slipped inside the dark room beyond.

"Go carefully," Paden cautioned in a whisper. "This is a slaver den, but that's all we know. It could be empty or there could be dozens of them here."

They crept through the first room without incident. A few barrels were lined up against a wall and Paden paused to look in each one. Varric and Carver had to stop and wait for her.

"What are you doing?" Varric asked.

"She's looking for trinkets," Carver said, rolling his eyes.

"I thought we were here for a will or something," Varric said.

"Yes, we are," Paden assured. "I want to look around though. You never know what we might find here."

"She's always doing that these days," Carver explained. "Picking up every little thing she sees."

"Hey, one man's junk…" Paden mumbled.

"Is a woman's treasure," Varric finished.

Paden gaped at him for a moment and Varric chuckled at his own joke. "Maker, Varric," she said, shaking her head as she walked on ahead.

A door led into another, larger room dimly lit by a single lantern hanging on the far wall. Paden paused and scanned the room carefully. She couldn't make out some of the darker corners, but directly across from them was another doorway, in which was outlined the figure of a man leaning against the wall.

Paden motioned to the others. "A guard," she whispered.

"Just one?" Varric asked.

"I can't tell, it's too dark."

"You ready to take them out?"

Paden shrugged. "They're slavers," she said simply, and then unhooked her staff from her back, aimed it at the guard, and sent a bolt of electricity across the room. The guard's body spasmed and then dropped to the ground like a sack of rocks.

A shout followed, and four other men rushed from the shadows in confusion.

"Oh, flames," Paden muttered, and she stood aside to let Carver pass. He drew his sword as he rushed into the room.

Varric had his crossbow off his shoulder in a flash, and Paden sent a couple more bolts of electricity into the room to connect with the slavers. In moments the four slavers lay motionless on the floor. But they had no time to rest, as several more men came rushing in from an adjoining room, swords drawn.

"Looks like we missed a few," Varric said.

Carver charged forward with his sword again, and Paden took a position against the wall as a couple slavers slipped past her brother and headed toward her. One of them had a bow, and Paden managed to cast a spell shield around herself just as he fired an arrow in her direction. The shield managed to deflect the projectile, and then Paden drew energy from the fade, stretched her hands toward the two men, and telekinetically lifted them into the air a few feet, and then slammed them back down as hard as she could. She heard bones crack, but for good measure she sent a few bolts of electricity into them anyway.

Meanwhile Carver had cut down two other slavers, and Varric had been busy with his crossbow from the doorway.

The room suddenly fell quite as the battle ended, and they listened for more guards, but none were forthcoming.

Varric shouldered Bianca, shaking his head in amazement. "Maker's breath, Hawke. You do get results, don't you?"

Paden arched an eyebrow at him. "I suppose I do. Better than getting dead."

They spent a couple minutes searching the room, looking in the crates and looting the bodies of the slavers. Paden made a neat pile of treasures in the corner to pick up on their way back out.

They went up a flight of stairs next, and at the top was another room. "This place is never-ending," Varric said. "Do you even know where this will is?"

"Sort of," Paden said. "All we know is it's locked in the vault, but I don't have any idea where that could be. We just have to keep looking until we find it."

This room contained huge wine vats, and the smell of wine was still strong in the air, even though it hadn't been used as a wine cellar for a few years now.

"That's the Amell crest I think," Carver said, pointing to a fancy shield that had been mounted on the wall. Paden came over to look at it with him. "Mother described it once," Carver said. "Put that above your door and you better have the ties to back it up."

"Hm," Paden grunted. "I wonder what the Hawke family crest would look like."

"The Hawkes don't _have_ a crest," Carver said. "They aren't important enough."

"Someday they will, if you have anything to say about it," Paden said. "And it will be much more meaningful than this one."

"I highly doubt it, Sister."

Paden moved closer to Carver, putting her head beside his to obtain his point of view, and then she gestured before them, as if presenting something on the wall. "Just picture it, Carver. The Hawke family crest on a shield like that. I imagine it'd have to incorporate a bird of prey somehow."

"A hawk," Carver agreed with a nod, which quickly changed to a shake of the head as he pulled away and looked at her. "Listen to you go on; you don't even want our family to be noble enough to own a crest."

"No, but you do," Paden said. "And you'll make it so one day, Carver, I know you will."

"Always the optimist," Carver said with a sigh.

"That's me," Paden agreed. She gave her brother a grin. "Come on, we need to find the will." She led the way down a narrow hall that opened into another large room lined with barrels and crates. She glanced at Carver a few times as they went, happy to see that he seemed to be thinking about what she said. All his life she had tried to gently steer him toward his own path to greatness, giving a bit of encouragement here, dropping a little hint there. Usually he didn't seem to notice her efforts, and chose to remain in her shadow anyway, as if he were afraid to leave it, but still resented her for it. She was determined see that change one day, if only for her brother's sake.

They went down a hall and into yet another room filled with wine vats. Paden stopped short in the doorway when she saw a man in mage robes standing in the center of the room.

He turned around to face them and scowled. "Did that bastard Gamlen put you up to this?" he said. "I knew I should've slit his throat." Before Paden could respond the mage drew his staff. Paden could feel the power build around him.

"Look out!" she shouted, and shoved Varric aside. They both went to their knees just as a fireball exploded where they had been standing.

Paden didn't wait to see if Varric was all right. She got to her feet and grabbed her staff up off the floor. She turned to face the mage, but Carver was already a dozen steps ahead of her. The mage couldn't deal with Carver's speed and fury, and he went down before he could even think about casting another spell.

But just as he hit the floor, several more slavers with swords came rushing down a staircase on the other side of the room. Carver went to meet them, and Paden glanced back at Varric as the dwarf pulled himself to his feet.

"You all right?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Thanks. That was a little too close for my taste." Then he raised his crossbow to his shoulder and fired into the group of enemies.

A few slipped around Carver's guard, since there were just too many for him to deal with on his own. Paden sent various spells at them through her staff while Varric wielded Bianca like a third arm. It took a little longer to get rid of this group, since these ones seemed to be more skilled than the others.

A sneaky one managed to get around behind Paden somehow, and she barely noticed him in time to dance back away from his knife. He came at her again, swinging the blade ruthlessly. Paden used her staff to block his attack, and knocked him in the shoulder and again in the knee. It gave the man pause enough to allow Paden the moment she needed to use a telekinetic burst that sent the man flying backwards into the wall. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. But Paden slammed the end of her staff on the floor with a yell, and a bolt of electricity arced down from the ceiling into the man's body, leaving it smoking on the floor.

Paden twirled her staff a few times as she took quick stock of the room. All the enemies lay still. She let out a tense breath and wiped the sweat off her brow with her sleeve.

"I'm getting too old for this," Varric huffed as he retracted Bianca.

"You're the one who asked to come along," Paden pointed out.

"Yeah, because lack of adventure is what's made me grow old."

"You're not old until you're gray, Varric, and you're not even a little bit gray."

"Strong hair genetics," the dwarf said. "My father never did turn gray."

"See? So you'll never grow old."

Varric could only laugh in response.

They went up the stairs that the slavers had come down, which led them to a hall. To the right, another set of stairs led up to a closed door, and to the left was another closed door with an impressive lock on it.

"That has to be the vault," Carver said. "If there's anything to learn about the family, that's where it is."

"You're probably right," Paden agreed, and hurried to the locked door. "Does your key work on this?" she asked Carver.

Carver came forward and tried the key in the lock. It clicked to the right and the door opened.

Paden grinned and they went inside. It wasn't a large room, and it was filled with pieces of furniture, pottery, chests and other things that the family had once deemed important enough to lock away.

"It's probably in one of these chests," Paden said. "Start searching."

They split up, each smashing the lock off a different chest and rummaging through the contents. The chest Paden opened was filled with papers and books. She began to shuffle through them, trying to identify each one as quickly as possible.

"Hey look, jewelry," Varric exclaimed. "That could fetch you a pretty copper."

"Bring it," Paden said.

She shuffled through a few more papers and envelopes, most of which were old receipts and tax records. But one envelope caught her attention. It was addressed to Malcolm Hawke, from someone called Tobrius. Paden considered that for a moment, and then folded the envelope in half and stuffed it in her pocket. She'd have to take a look at it later. She and her father had been very close, and to have something that belonged to him all these years later was priceless.

She went back to her rummaging and finally found something that looked promising. "I think I found it," she said.

Carver hurried over and looked over her shoulder. "So this is it?" he asked. "This is grandfather's will?"

Paden opened the large envelope and pulled out a carefully copied manuscript that looked very official. At the very top it said, _Last Will and Testament of Lord Aristide Amell_. They had actually found it!

"Let's just take it back to Mother and be done with it," Carver said.

"I don't think there's any point in delaying the news," Paden agreed. She slipped the will back into its envelope and then tucked it into her tunic. "Let's go."

She led the way back through the rooms and hallways. They met no more resistance, and Paden used an old cloth sack she had found to pick up the piles of loot she had left. By the time they reached the cellar door and exited into Darktown, the bag was completely full, and somewhat heavy. Paden slung it over her shoulder but her body bent from the weight of it.

Carver sighed and took the bag from her. "Is it really necessary to bring all of this?" he asked. But instead of opening the bag to sort through the contents like she thought he would, he slung it over his back and started walking in the direction of home.

Paden stared at him a moment, since his little acts of kindness were so rare, they always caught her off guard. She said nothing in reply to him so as not to ruin the moment.

She let Varric lead them out of Darktown, and while they walked she took the will out and scanned the text quickly. She couldn't believe what she read. "Carver," she said absently as she kept reading. "Mother's going to be very happy to see this."


	9. Regrets

****A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this out; things have been crazy lately. This chapter has some canon dialogue in it, though I try to mix it up so it's a little different. I welcome your comments if you think it needs to be mixed up a little more. Sometimes it's hard to know what to do with canon material, and I know everyone has different opinions about it too.

I also want to thank everyone who's liked, followed and reviewed my story. You guys inspire me to keep writing!

An extra special thank you to my two betas (you know who you are). You guys made me believe in my writing ability again, I couldn't have done this without you!

**Act One**

**Chapter 9**

**Regrets**

Paden and Carver returned to Lowtown with Varric, who kept up a constant narrative as they walked, pointing out this and that; he seemed to have a story for everything. When they reached the Hanged Man they paused to bid the dwarf good night, declining his offer of drinks, since they wanted to hurry and return to their mother with the will. As Paden had expected, Leandra and Gamlen had waited up for them, eager to hear news about the estate. When she and Carver walked through the front door of the dingy apartment, Gamlen and Leandra were in the middle of one of their discussions.

Gamlen was pacing and gesturing nervously. "So I'm just saying, blood's blood and all, but, you _are_ taking advantage of my hospitality. It's only fair that you make somewhat of a…monthly contribution."

Paden couldn't believe what she was hearing, and apparently neither could her mother.

"You sold my children into servitude," Leandra said with a scowl. "Now you're asking me to pay rent?"

Paden and Carver came to stand beside their mother. Paden glared at Gamlen. Where did he even get the nerve to suggest such a thing? They were family for Maker's sake! Not to mention they had practically no income.

Gamlen was obviously nervous though, even more so now that Paden and Carver were present. "Uh…maybe just…put something towards food," he suggested.

"You should be paying us, Uncle," Paden said. At her mother's questioning frown, Paden explained. "We found the will."

"Grandfather left everything to Mother and us," Carver said, stepping forward, the document in his hands. "I guess he had some sense after all. See for yourself." He handed the will to his mother.

As Leandra took the official paper, Gamlen grew agitated. He glanced around the room, as if looking for an escape route. "Oh…uh…I…ah…I should maybe…"

Paden smirked, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction.

Leandra ignored her brother and read aloud, "To my daughter Leandra, and all children born of her…" She paused. "…The estate in Hightown and all associated revenues." She looked up in shock.

Paden smiled grimly and pointed to a particular line of text on the page. "Check out the part where Gamlen is left only a stipend, to be controlled by you."

Leandra read silently, the expression on her face becoming sad. She finally looked up at her brother. "Gamlen, how could you?"

Gamlen grew defensive and jabbed a finger at his sister. "You're the one who ran away, Leandra. To never come back as I recall. What happened to 'love is so much more important than money'?"

"It is," Leandra said.

"You didn't even come home for the funeral!"

"The twins were a week old," Leandra defended, her voice strained as she tried to keep her emotions from bubbling over.

"We all have our burdens," Gamlen allowed. "Mine was looking after a life you abandoned. How long was I supposed to wait?"

"This is what Grandfather wanted," Paden said, gesturing to the will. "This was his last request, and you denied him that. You didn't even write to tell Mother." She felt no sympathy for Gamlen, and was very happy to see him put on the spot now.

"I took care of Father!" Gamlen said, raising his voice defensively. "I stayed. And on his deathbed all he could talk about was Leandra." He gestured broadly at his sister and then paused to take a breath. Sorrow filled Leandra's eyes, and Paden knew that her mother was regretful for leaving her little brother with so much responsibility that he wasn't prepared for. Paden was sad for her mother, but not for Gamlen.

Gamlen sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Look, Sister, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, but I did, and there's nothing I can do to get it back."

"I didn't expect that, Gamlen," Leandra said. "It's enough to know that Mother and Father didn't die angry. I'll petition the Viscount for rights to reclaim the estate. Maker willing, you'll have your house back within weeks."

Gamlen shook his head. "You don't have the coin or standing to even get an audience with the Viscount. You've got to _be_ someone in this city to live in that house again."

"Then I had better get started," Leandra said, her voice light and optimistic. She left it at that, and went into the bedroom with the will.

Gamlen shook his head in resignation and retreated to his room as well. Paden hesitated, looking at both closed doors. She briefly considered following Gamlen, but what would that accomplish? She didn't agree with what he did, and nothing he could say would change her mind, nor would anything she could say to him change what happened. So instead she followed her mother.

Leandra was sitting in the chair at the small table that doubled as a desk, her father's will in hand, intently reading it. Paden came in and sat down on the edge of the bunk and watched her.

After a moment Leandra looked up at her daughter. "When I told your grandmother I was marrying your father, she threatened to disown me."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Disown you? That seems harsh."

Leandra nodded. "She said my children would be mongrels. My father wanted to lock me in, but she told him, 'it's her life, let her ruin it.'" She paused, a sad expression on her face. "I wrote to her when each of you were born. She never wrote back. I'm glad she didn't die hating me."

"I've never heard you talk about Grandmother," Paden said. "Or really Grandfather much either. How come?"

Leandra shook her head slowly. "Perhaps because it was too painful. And also knowing that you would probably never meet them, I saw no reason to try and help you get to know them from a distance."

"They didn't want you marry father because he was an apostate," Paden said. "It was a disgrace?" She had heard that at some point while growing up.

Leandra nodded. "Magic in a noble bloodline is considered a disgrace. I was quite a rebel in my younger days."

Paden smiled at that thought. She would have loved to have memories of her mother that way.

"But it was more than that," Leandra added. "Our family was the most respected in Kirkwall. I never told you this, but around the time I met your father, your grandfather was being considered for the next Viscount."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. "You mean… our family would have been Kirkwall's rulers? Why didn't it happen? Was it because of you marrying father?"

"There was another reason," Leandra said. "A cousin of mine was born with magical abilities. They tried to keep it secret, and even sent the poor child all the way to the Circle in Ferelden to try to keep it under wraps. But things like that never stay hidden, and the secrecy only compounded problem. It was decided that for my father to take the throne with magic in our family would be just too much of a scandal, so he stepped down, and Marlowe Dumar was elected instead. Of course, even if it hadn't happened that way, it still would have happened after I ran off with an apostate."

Paden shook her head slightly. "That's…so hard to imagine," she admitted. "That we would have grown up in Kirkwall's most influential family." She chuckled mirthlessly. "Mother, I am so glad you married father instead."

Leandra echoed the chuckle. "Oh, sweetheart, so am I." She sighed. "I just… You know, my actions were much more of a disgrace to my parents than anything else the rest of the family could have done. It was more personal—especially for my mother."

"I'm sure Grandmother didn't hate you," Paden encouraged. "She was probably just scared of losing you, and scared for you in the life she knew you would be forced to live."

Leandra gave her daughter an appreciative smile. "She would have been so proud of you. You're everything she would have wanted in an Amell grandchild."

Paden arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? Magic and all?"

"She might have a hard time accepting it at first," Leandra allowed. "But she would have loved you, all three of you." She turned back to the desk and hung her head. "Oh, Bethany. She was such a sweet little girl. Never cried. Just looked at you with those big eyes."

Paden turned her head and closed her eyes momentarily, fresh grief and guilt reaching out to grab her seemingly from nowhere. "She lives on in our memories," she said weakly, futilely, her words sounding useless and hollow in her own ears. A mockery of her true feelings that were buried too deep now to express.

Paden and her mother had never talked about Bethany's death since arriving in Kirkwall, nor had Paden talked about it with Carver. Perhaps they had avoided the subject in order to avoid the pain. But the pain was still there, and now it was even worse, accompanied by feelings of bitterness and guilt. Paden could still remember that moment so vividly, when her mother cradled Bethany's limp body in her arms, and blamed Paden for the whole thing. Paden should have stopped Bethany from attacking that ogre on her own. Paden should have fought the ogre instead, or at least helped her sister defeat it. At first Paden rebelled against the idea that it had been her fault; it had all happened so quickly, she never had a chance to stop Bethany or help her. But as time went by and her grief festered, so did her guilt. She began to believe her mother's accusations, taking the mantel of blame onto herself without even realizing it. Until one say she woke up and realized that Bethany's death was her fault…because her mother said it was. Her mother, who was supposed to be a comforting and reassuring influence in her life, put that heavy burden on her shoulders, and Paden grew to resent her for that.

"I just keep thinking there's something we could have done," Leandra said, tears welling in her eyes. "It's killing me. I remember that awful creature reaching down and…eighteen years of loving and feeding and raising and…" Her voice fell to a whisper. "That was it."

Paden looked at her mother in surprise. No blame this time? Her mother wished there was something they could have done? Not 'you should have done it yourself'? "At least you're past the 'it's all your fault' thing," she said, her tone bitter.

Leandra looked up at her. "I'm sorry, Love, I was…distraught. I never really believed that, it's just… I… I miss her." She looked down at the table top.

Paden swallowed hard and quickly dashed her fingers across her eyes to catch a tear before it fell. Her mother obviously had no idea how that guilt had festered and eaten away at Paden over the last year. But to hear those words from her mother now lifted a heavy burden from her shoulders. She still blamed herself—it would probably be a long time before she could change her mind about that—but to know that her mother didn't blame her felt so…well, good.

Paden stood up and rested a hand on her mother's shoulder. "I miss her too," she whispered.

"There were four of us when the Blight began," Leandra said softly. "It will never be over while there are just three."

Paden squeezed her mother's shoulder gently and wiped her eyes again. She clenched her jaw tightly and silently cursed her body for wanting to cry, for showing such weakness. But the pain of losing her sister and dealing with the guilt for so long was like a knife that had been lodged in her heart all this time. And in this moment it felt like the knife had been twisted.

Paden stood there with her hand on her mother's shoulder in silence for several minutes. She didn't have anything else to say. Her mother and her had never been especially close—Paden had been her father's daughter, taking after him in almost every way. Sometimes Leandra used to joke that Paden should have been born a boy, the way she chose to wear trousers instead of dresses, and traipsed all over the countryside with her father, learning practical skills that would never suit a lady of the court—which frustrated Leandra no end, since her upbringing had ingrained in her that a lady should always be proper. Leandra had had better luck teaching Bethany those traits.

Paden had always shared her inner thoughts and struggles with her father, and after his death she had just learned to deal with them on her own. After four years she had become very good at keeping her feelings to herself, so that now it was almost a handicap when she actually _wanted_ to speak her heart.

Finally Leandra stood up and faced her daughter.

"Thank you, dear," she said with a soft smile. "Thank you for getting the will. And thank you for…for just being you. I'm going to write to the Viscount. This life we have hear will be over soon, I'm sure of it."

Paden couldn't help but smile slightly at that. Her mother patted her on the shoulder and then left the room, leaving Paden with her churning thoughts and feelings. She sat down in the chair her mother had just vacated. She stared at the three beds all stacked one atop the other. Perhaps her nights sleeping in that middle bunk were numbered. Perhaps there was still hope for them after all. Mother seemed so optimistic.

A moment later Carver came into the room to put his things away.

"Hello, Lord Carver," Paden said with a grin.

He glanced at her, not amused. "We're still a long way from cowing Templars with our titles, sister."

Paden frowned. "You could slap on a smile for a few days. For her sake."

Carver shook his head. "She's not interested in what I think. She wants to provide for us. And you're making sure it happens. And when we're done, I don't know, I guess we'll sit around thinking about how great our family used to be." He turned to face her after hanging his sword on the wall. "Mother didn't even want that life back until we got dumped here. And you only care because we're under Templar scrutiny."

Paden clenched her jaw to keep herself from making a defensive comment. She hated it when Carver boiled all their problems down to the simple and unavoidable fact that she was a mage. He may be right, but she still hated it.

"Very well, Carver," she said instead, keeping her voice even. "What's _your_ plan?"

"I'd look forward," Carver said. "Make something new. Stop paying debts for old men. And if I _had_ to go backward, I'm not looking for ancient names. I'd fix what's important, what went wrong."

"What do you mean 'fix what went wrong'? We can't just go back," Paden said.

Carver shook his head. "We wouldn't need to if you'd done it right," he said bitterly. "Lothering was our home. Not this place. We could have stood our ground. You could have stopped that ogre from killing Bethany."

Paden felt the knife twist again. She closed her eyes, her jaw clenching to hold back the threatening tears that she refused to give in to. She'd had a feeling that he blamed her for Bethany's death. He had grown so cold toward her in those first weeks following the incident. But had warmed considerably in more recent months, perhaps finally putting it behind him. or so she hoped. This was the first time he had ever admitted his feelings out loud, and now Paden could see that he had not put it behind him at all.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, noticing with a little pleasure that he seemed uncomfortable about what he had just said. She stood up to face him.

"You're right," she said.

He looked surprised she admitted that. "What?"

"We could have, _should_ have done more, done _something_. And I'd change all of it if I could. Maker's breath, Carver, I would have _gladly_ died in Bethany's place." Paden sucked air through her teeth and shook her head as tears welled in her eyes, unwelcome but unstoppable. "But I don't have that option anymore," she continued softly. "I can't change what happened, and you know it."

She finally looked at him, waiting for a response. Carver seemed confused or ashamed, she couldn't tell. He glanced around the room, as if looking for his next line on the wall, but he said nothing. After spilling her heart the most she'd had in a very long time, he had nothing to say.

Paden shook her head, expecting nothing else from him. "Well, good talk," she said sarcastically, and turned to leave the room.

"Sister," Carver called just as she reached the door. Paden stopped, but didn't turn to face him. He hesitated again. "I feel…I don't know. It's like Mother taking everything out on us. She was just scared." He paused again as he struggled to get his feelings out. "I don't have a place in the life she's trying to bring back." Out of the corner of her eye Paden saw Carver run his hands through his hair in awkward frustration. "I'm here if you need me," he finally said. "But I must find my own way."

She waited to hear more, but Carver was finished. He climbed up to his top bunk and retreated out of sight. Paden left the room, and since there was nowhere else to go to be alone in the small house, she went outside, even though it was late and the streets were dangerous at night. She didn't care. She had to get out, and she knew she could take care of herself.

She didn't go far. She walked around the block a few times just to clear her head. She had always blamed herself for Bethany's death, but knowing that the family did as well made it that much harder to bear. At least things seemed to be better between her and mother. But would they ever be with Carver? He was so stubborn. He hated living in her shadow, but would he ever finally step out on his own? Would he ever finally make something for himself? Perhaps after the Deep Roads expedition, when they finally had some money, and maybe even their estate back, Carver would be able to step aside and follow his own path, knowing that she and Mother would be taken care of. Paden hoped that with her whole heart.

She walked past Gamlen's house for the third time. But this time the front door was open, light streaming out onto the street. Leandra stood in the doorway looking worried.

"Paden?" she called. "What are you doing out here?"

Paden sighed. "Just…getting some air," she said.

"Well come back inside now. It's not safe to be walking the streets at night."

Paden didn't argue, mostly because she saw no reason to stay out longer; it would accomplish nothing. She went inside and got herself ready for bed. While she was getting dressed she found the folded letter she had found at the estate and stuck inside her tunic. She took it to bed with her and read it by the light of her single candle. It was a short letter.

_To Malcolm Hawke,_

_It is with great regret that I must inform you that our mutual friend has gone to be with the Maker. Your friendship meant a great deal to him, I could see that plain as day. He will be greatly missed here by many, as well as by you I am sure. Please accept my sincerest condolences._

_Your mutual friend, Tobrius_

_Kirkwall Circle of Magi_

Paden frowned slightly and read the letter again. So someone called Tobrius—apparently a mage from the Circle in Kirkwall—had sent this letter to father. Father must have had friends in the Circle. Of course that made sense; he had been in the Circle back before he married mother. Paden knew next to nothing about that part of his life; he never used to talk about it. She wondered why the name of the friend who had died was not mentioned in the letter.

She grunted softly and put the letter under her pillow before blowing out the candle. She and her father had been very close, but there was so much she didn't know about him because he had hated talking about his past. This letter intrigued her, cracking open a door into her father's life that she had never been allowed to look through. She would have to somehow find out who this Tobrius was, if he was even still alive. She wanted to know who this secret friend of father's was.


	10. Ambush

**Act One**

**Chapter Ten**

**Ambush**

Paden dragged herself out of bed at dawn the next morning. She hadn't got a lot of sleep last night and she was exhausted. But they had an appointment to keep, so she couldn't sleep in.

Varric had once again offered his help, and Paden started to get the impression that he really had nothing else to do. Not that she minded at all. She enjoyed the dwarf's company, and Maker knew they could use the help.

They met Aveline on the road just outside the city, and then began the long hike up Sundermount. The mountain loomed over Kirkwall, its snowy peak ever dominating the horizon. Its paths were rough and steep, and often dangerous. Most folk never went up there if they didn't have to. Paden and Carver had braved those slopes a few times when in Athenril's employ.

Once they reached the base of the mountain the hike to the ambush spot took about an hour. Varric entertained them all with wild tales he had picked up in his travels, and no doubt embellished liberally. Paden was thoroughly enthralled by them though. Varric had a way of telling stories that just captured the imagination, and even though it was obvious, by how outlandish some of it was, that a lot of what he told couldn't possibly be true, she liked to think it was.

"You know, Hawke," Varric said, after she had commented on the story he had just wrapped up, "One day I'm going to tell your story. And it will be one of my grander ones."

Paden laughed lightly. "My story? I don't have a story, Varric."

"On the contrary," Varric said. "You're already off to a good start. Vanquisher of Darkspawn, Escaper of the Blight, Smuggler of the Underworld. And soon you'll be able to add Deep Roads Explorer to that list."

"You make me sound like a regular hero, Varric," Paden said with some amusement.

"I just tell it like it is, Hawke. You make your own stories."

"As long as I'm not ten feet tall and shoot lightening bolts from my eyes."

Varric laughed. "I'll make sure they only shoot from your hands then."

About ten minutes later, Aveline put out a cautionary hand. "We're getting close to the ambush site, Hawke. Be ready."

They had just come into an area where cliffs and steep hills pressed in on both sides of the path, making retreat in any direction but back difficult. The perfect place for an ambush.

Paden brandished her staff and continued forward cautiously. The way widened out a bit into a large clearing, but was still surrounded by cliffs. As they came around a bend they could see a group of five men waiting by the road ahead.

"Here we go," Aveline said, drawing her sword.

The men spotted them and drew their weapons. Paden headed them off by sending a few fireballs their way, but some of them still got through. Aveline and Carver charged ahead with their swords, while Paden and Varric held back to deal damage from a distance.

These bandits were well trained fighters, not your average thugs, and Carver and Aveline had to keep on their toes in order to keep their necks. Paden and Varric had to be careful about where they sent their ranged attacks in order to not deal friendly fire to their companions.

Just as Carver finally felled the last of the bandits, two more came charging down a steep slope, right atop him and Aveline. Paden was about to shoot a fireball at them when she noticed even more men.

"Varric, archers on the cliff up there," she said, pointing to two bowmen who were covering their sword wielding fellows down below.

"I got them," Varric said. "You help your brother."

Paden trusted Varric to take care of that threat. So she spun her staff and sent a bolt of electricity into the bandit that was attacking Carver. Electricity was much better than a fireball for close combat situations, because she could control the extent of its damage and didn't have to worry about hitting her brother—another reason why she preferred lightening over the other elements.

Just as that bandit went down three more attacked from the cliff just above Paden's left shoulder. They surprised her, but she threw a deflection spell at them just in time, sending them flying back into the rock face. Carver hurried over to finish them off before they could get back on their feet.

And suddenly the fighting was over. Varric and Bianca had taken care of the archers, and the bodies of the swordsmen were scattered all over the path. They waited a minute, making sure all was clear and that no more would come charging over the hill.

Finally Aveline sheathed her sword and then crouched to examine the body of one of the attackers.

"Well equipped for bandits," she said. "But dead is dead and the way is clear."

Paden picked up one of the fallen bandit's swords. "Well equipped indeed," she said. "How much do you think I could get for this, Carver?"

He took the weapon from her and examined it. "A good few silver anyway," he said. "Get the rest. We'll tie them together with one of their belts. Be easier to carry that way."

Paden grinned at her brother and then began gathering up the bandits' weapons while Carver removed a belt from one of the bodies. Paden also searched the bodies for other valuables, and by the time she was done she had found eight swords, two shields, two bows, six large fighting daggers and five smaller daggers, as well as a total of seventy-eight silver in coin.

She chuckled as she carried the last of the swords to the pile they were creating. "Maybe we need another belt," she said. "Else this will be quite a bundle."

Varric chuckled. "You're becoming quite frugal, Hawke. You could open up your own store at this rate."

"Maybe I will," Paden said with a wink to the dwarf. "Maybe I'll settle down and retire from adventuring."

"Hawke's Secondhand Goods," Varric said, holding his hands up as if framing a sign on a building. Then he shook his head. "Nah, you'd get bored.".

"Hawke, Captain Jevan needs to know of this ambush," Aveline said. "Let's get back to the barracks for your reward."

"Yes, that's right, we're hopefully going to be paid handsomely for this," Paden said. "But even if not, at least it wasn't all a waste."

She flashed Aveline a smile and hefted one of the shields over her shoulder with one hand, and picked up a bundle of swords with the other. "All right, let's go. Still got quite a hike back down."

By the time they made it back to Kirkwall Paden was ready to drop everything they had collected. But they needed the money, so she forced herself to make it all the way to the Hightown market—which was the closest market they came to after entering the city from the main road. There was no sense in carting the stuff around any longer, so they made a quick side trip to a weapons dealer and spent a little bit of time haggling over a good sell price. They finally walked away with over a sovereign's worth in gold. Paden was quite pleased.

Then they went with Aveline to the Viscount's Keep to report the success of their mission to Guard Captain Jevan. Paden was reluctant to enter the Keep again, but she was with Aveline this time as they walked past the guards in the main hall. They seemed to not pay as much attention to her as before, which calmed Paden's nerves only a little. They stopped outside a closed door in the Guard barracks.

"There's Jevan's office," Aveline said. "Wait here while I explain our initiative."

Aveline went into the office and closed the door behind her. Paden leaned against the wall to wait. Carver wandered over to the duty roster to see what sorts of work the guards were assigned, and Varric began chatting up a couple female guards on the other side of the room.

After a moment Paden could hear Jevan's raised voice through the door.

"I don't know how they do it where you're from, guardswoman, but _I_ decide the patrols. Not you and your whims! You may have been put up for lieutenant in your first year, but I will have no show-offs in my command! Have I made myself clear? Report to your post before I have you and your Fereldan accomplice jailed."

A second later the door burst open and Aveline stormed out. Paden glanced in at Captain Jevan. An older man with graying hair and a smoldering expression.

Aveline closed the door hard and Paden looked at her. "Well, what a charming fellow," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"I don't have to like him," Aveline said. "But he could at least listen. Bandits are dead, that's all that should matter." She sighed softly. "It's not the first time he's made me wonder like this. Something is very wrong."

"This is probably a bad time to discuss my bill with him," Paden joked.

"He'll jail you," Aveline said. "I don't doubt that. The rest though…" She sighed and shook her head, glancing back at the door. "Threatening my friends was a bad move."

"Well, it wasn't all a bust, Aveline," Paden said with a wave of her hand. "At least you weren't suspended. But next time you offer me a job, make sure it's all right with the boss, won't you?"

"Will do," Aveline said. "Thank you, Hawke."

Paden inclined her head and then called to the others. "Carver, Varric, we still have an appointment with a Gray Warden. We shouldn't dilly dally."

Carver joined them. "Aveline, could I join the City Guard?"

"You'd have to turn in an application," Aveline said.

"Where could I get one of those?"

"From the recruitment office," Aveline said, pointing to a closed door just down the way."

"Thanks," Carver said. "Go on ahead, Sister, I'll catch up."

"Well, hurry," Paden said. "We don't want to wait for you."

"I'll be right behind you," Carver assured, and hurried to the recruitment office.

Paden glanced at Aveline. "Since when does he want to join the Guard?"

Aveline shrugged. "Don't look at me. But if you're worried about him joining, don't. He's unlikely to qualify."

"Really?" Paden said suspiciously. "And why is that?"

"Different reasons," Aveline said evasively. "Now, didn't I hear you have an appointment to keep? I'll see you around, Hawke."

Paden frowned at her friend's back as Aveline headed to the women's barracks. Now what was that about?

—

A/N: Sorry it's such a short chapter. I'll have a longer one posted sometime this weekend hopefully.


	11. The Lit Lantern

**Act One**

**Chapter Eleven**

**The Lit Lantern**

Every day that went by without starting the Deep Roads expedition was another day they had to live in fear, looking over their shoulders for that inevitable Templar presence at their door. Another day they had to spend living with Gamlen. The sooner they got on with it the better. Paden just hoped they would be able to find this Gray Warden Varric had heard about, and that he would be able and willing to help them.

Lirene's Ferelden Imports was a small shop just above the open air market in Lowtown. That day it was packed with Fereldan refugees seeking help. Many of them were in dire situations, with nowhere to live and no work to be had. Some hadn't eaten in days, and others had just lost family members to sickness and exposure. Their cries for help and comfort cut deeply into Paden as she wove her way through the crowd, trying to reach the main counter at the back of the store. As much as she despised Gamlen, and hated living in his neglected mockery of a home, Paden had to feel grateful when faced with the reality of where she and her family could be if not for her uncle's grudging hospitality.

Lirene was a Fereldan woman who had come to Kirkwall before the Blight, and was established in the city. She had a heart for her suffering countrymen, and did all she could to offer them aid. She took up collections to buy them bread, and used her connections to find them work and lodging. But there was only so much one woman could do for so many, and her store was never empty of people looking for a last hope.

Paden caught Lirene's eye as she and her companions pushed their way to the counter. She felt a little guilty for demanding priority over those who needed dire aid, but she wasn't planning on staying long. All she needed was information, and then they would be on their way.

"If you're seeking aid," Lirene said to Paden, "Leave your name with my girl. We serve everyone here. No one came from Ferelden without trouble." She crossed her arms. "But I can't give priority to anyone who's already found the bare necessities."

"I need only information," Paden said. "I'm looking for a Fereldan Gray Warden, and I heard you might know where I could find one."

Lirene looked at her suspiciously. "Only Fereldan Gray Warden I know of is sitting on the throne. We're out of the Blight's path now. Why would you need a Warden?"

"He may have information I need," Paden explained, curious why Lirene cared.

A young woman standing nearby spoke up. "The healer was one of them once, wasn't he? A Warden?"

"Well he's not now," Lirene said, shooting a glare at the girl. "And busy enough without answering fool questions about it."

Paden looked from Lirene to the girl and back again. "Who are you protecting?" she asked.

"You see what our people face in Kirkwall," Lirene said. "They have no jobs, no homes. Most can barely buy bread. This healer…he serves them without thought for coin. He's closed their wounds, delivered their children. He's a good man. I won't lose him to the blighted Templars."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. "You mean he's a mage?" The secrecy all made sense now, and Paden also realized that she was putting this Gray Warden in danger just by asking about him. But Lirene also said he was a healer, and a healer couldn't operate in complete secrecy.

"Would I stick my neck out for some purveyor of hen's-bane and leaches?" Lirene said defensively.

"Oh, perish the thought," Carver said, rolling his eyes. "Another delicate mage flower."

Paden shot a glare at her brother. Every time they encountered another mage, he grew a giant chip on his shoulder. Didn't he realize that his cutting remarks and insults hurt her more than whatever mage they were directed at? If he held such low opinions of mages in general, what did he truly think of his own sister? But that was an argument for another day.

"He doesn't want to be locked in the Gallows just for using the gifts the Maker gave him," Lirene said.

"I don't blame him," Paden said. "Your healer is in no danger from me."

"Right," Carver agreed. "Perfectly safe, if he cooperates."

Paden jabbed her elbow into her brother's side as hard as she could manage discreetly. Honestly, sometimes his attitude toward mages was bad enough she felt like she was living with a Templar.

"I suppose it isn't my secret to keep," Lirene said. "Anders has certainly been free enough with his services. Refugees in Darktown know, to find the healer, look for the lit lantern. If you have need enough, Anders will be within."

"The lit lantern," Paden said, and nodded. Obviously Lirene wasn't going to give them more detailed directions than that. But that was all right; Paden understood. "Thank you," she said.

As they were leaving the shop, Paden noticed a donations box for Fereldan refugees. She stood before it for a moment, considering all the coin they had just made that day. She dug out her coin purse and withdrew a few silver and put it in the box. Then she glanced at the others to see their reactions. Carver was acting like he didn't notice, and Varric gave her a wink.

Paden smiled and then went out onto the street. They were immediately approached by a group of armed men.

"We heard you in there, asking about the healer," their leader said in a Ferelden accent. "We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain't going to happen to him."

Paden tensed, reaching her hand behind her back, gripping her staff lightly. She was about to answer the man when Carver beat her to it.

"You want him safe?" he said. "Don't pick fights with other Fereldans when the Templars are after us all."

"Fereldan?" the man said, dropping his threatening posture. "But you—your clothes…I figured you for a Kirkwaller, sorry." He bowed slightly. "Maker bless the rule of our King Alistair." And with that, he and his men walked away.

Carver looked at his sister. "You'd think this Gray Warden was some kind of hero or something the way people are protecting him."

"Healers are often viewed as heroes by those they help," Paden said. "The fact that he's a mage probably inspires the protection. They don't want their vulnerable healer harmed. I wonder how long he's been in Kirkwall. I've never heard of a mage healer with a clinic in the city. We sure could have used him back when we encountered that blood mage."

"Let's get to Darktown," Varric advised. "I think I know the place Lirene was talking about. The lit lantern. There's a door with a red paper lantern over it. I actually saw it when we were down there last night. The door is always closed, but the lantern is always lit. Might be the place we're looking for."

"Well, then lead the way, Varric," Paden said, gesturing to the road before them.

—

It turned out that the door with the lit lantern was just down the passage from the door to the Amell cellars. That would have been convenient had they known about the clinic the night before.

Paden tried the door handle. It wasn't locked, so she pushed it open and peered inside. She saw a large room with a high ceiling and cots lining the walls, some occupied by patients. Paden stepped into the room and the others followed her.

The atmosphere in the room was one of peaceful quiet. A couple nurses shuffled about, tending to this and that, speaking kind words to patients; a few small children played a game quietly on the floor beside the bed of a sick friend; a new mother nursed her baby in a corner. On the other side of the room an inviting fire blazed in a pit, surrounded by pots of water being kept warm. A few men lounged there, visiting in low tones. Each sported a cast or a bandage of some sort, but their spirits seemed high nonetheless.

Even though this place likely saw its moments of panic and even death, Paden could see why the locals protected it so faithfully. This was a place of healing. A place where the hurting could come and find peace. The vibe in the room drew Paden in, and for a moment she even forgot why they were there. In this place she felt like she almost belonged, as odd as that sounded, and she was in no hurry to leave.

Near the back of the clinic several people were bent over the bed of a small boy. One of them was obviously a mage, presumably the Gray Warden Anders. Blue-white light radiated from his hands as he hovered them over the boy's body, using his magical powers to draw out whatever sickness plagued the child.

Even though—according to her father's grimoire—Malcolm Hawke had been a very skilled healer, the occasional skinned knee or bruised forehead was all he had had the occasion to treat while she was growing up. And that in itself seemed like a lifetime ago. So as Paden moved closer, she watched this healer in fascination. His eyes shut tight in concentration, his brow furrowed, head tilted slightly as he searched out the disease within his patient. Paden could tell it was not an easy task for him. She had only ever done a small amount of healing, nothing that intense, yet she knew the effort he was putting forth. She knew how difficult healing magic was. The fact that this man spent his days exhausting himself for the good of others, apparently without any thought for reward, gave Paden huge respect for him.

After a minute the healer finally succeeded in drawing out the boy's sickness. The boy sat up while his mother tended to him.

The healer's body sagged, and he almost fell over from exhaustion. He turned away, bracing a hand against the wall while one of his helpers offered support. A sudden, strong feeling of empathy lodged in Paden's throat. She had the strangest desire to go over to the healer and rest an encouraging hand on his shoulder. She shook her head. What a silly thought.

The mother led her son away as Paden and the others approached. They stood next to the bed the boy had vacated, and waited for the healer to recover enough to notice them. Paden couldn't take her eyes off him; finding him irresistibly fascinating. He was tall, somewhat lanky, but even though his shoulders sagged, Paden could tell they were strong shoulders, well muscled and conditioned, as were his arms. Not the standard weakling mage that Carver had assumed back at Lirene's.

Abruptly the healer grabbed a mage staff that was leaning against the wall, and spun around to face them, holding his free hand out as if he were about to cast a spell. The glare in his brown eyes was one of warning, and his voice echoed slightly in the large room.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?"

Paden raised her hands in a gesture of peace, her heart rate shooting up a notch or two. "I'm just here to talk," she said softly, keeping a sharp eye as she moved a little closer. The other mage was quick, and the power she could feel emanating from him was great. She hadn't felt that much power from another mage since her father. Strangely enough, Anders reminded her a lot of her father. Not necessarily in looks, since Anders was blond and clean-shaven, where Malcolm Hawke had had black hair and a beard. But Anders was tall like father had been, and he carried himself with the same sense of pride and strength. The look in his eyes spoke of years of experience and a hard life, but of determination as well. Paden had known that same look in her father's eyes.

"We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads," Varric explained. "Rumor has it that you were a Warden. Do you know a way?"

Anders put his hand down and relaxed his guard slightly as he regarded them. "Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?" he asked, his voice returning to a normal volume. "I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat."

Paden arched her eyebrows. "Your cat?"

Anders nodded. "Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

Paden smiled, trying not to giggle. She was not expecting him to stay something like that. "You had a cat called Ser Pounce-a-lot? In the Deep Roads?"

"He was a gift," Anders said, slightly defensive. "A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a Genlok once. He swatted the bugger on the nose." Anders smiled at the memory. "Drew blood too."

"So you came to Kirkwall just to escape the Wardens," Paden said, finally understanding why he was there and in hiding.

"You say that like it's a small thing," Anders said, frowning slightly. "Yes. I'm here because there is no Warden outpost, no Darkspawn, and a whole host of refugees to blend in with." He glanced briefly to the side. "And some reasons of my own."

"So you're not a Gray Warden anymore then?" Paden said. "I thought joining them was for life." Would he still be able to help them if he was no longer with the Wardens?

"That's only partly true," Anders said. "The hopelessly-tainted-by-the-Darkspawn and plagued-by-nightmares-of-the-Archdemon part don't go away." He gave Paden a wry smile. "But it turns out that if you hide well, you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

Paden smiled back. She couldn't help but like this Anders. He even had a bit of her father's sense of humor. She would love to sit and talk with him for a couple more hours, but remembered that they were there for a reason, and should probably get back to the business at hand.

"Well, don't worry, we're not here to bring you back," she said. "We're part of an expedition into the Deep Roads, actually. We were hoping you could provide us with any useful information. It could save lives."

Anders sighed softly. "I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads again. You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested."

Paden's hopes sank. He would refuse to even offer information? It's not like she was asking him to go with them. But before she could resort to pleading with him, Anders spoke again.

"Although…a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you."

Paden hesitated. "You mean your information has a price then?"

Anders shook his head. "Not just information. I have a Warden map of the depths in this area. But yes, there is a price." He turned away, pacing slightly, for the first time his confidence faltering a little. "I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The Templars learned of my plans to free him." He turned to face them again. "Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise, not expecting it to be such a huge price. "You want to make your friend an apostate?" She had been born an apostate, so she had never had a choice how she lived her life. But why would anyone _wish_ to have a life of running from the law?

"That's such a weighted term," Anders said, his voice hardening slightly, but he nodded. "Yes. Andraste said magic should serve man, not rule him. But I have yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything. It goes against no rule of the Maker for mages to live as free as other men."

The fervor with which he spoke, his obvious conviction, struck a resonating chord in Paden. He believed in liberty for mages, and was not afraid to aid and abet an apostate, to pluck a fellow mage directly from the lions den itself. Though, hiring complete strangers for help didn't strike Paden as the best idea. What if she and her companions had been sympathetic to the Chantry and its laws? Of course, Paden was a mage, and though that fact might not be obvious to just anyone, mages could not hide from each other. Paden could feel the power in Anders, and likewise he could feel hers. The mana they each drew from the fade, glowed like a beacon to the other, radiating outward and mingling in the air around them. Invisible, yet comfortingly palpable. While a fellow mage my not help Anders break the law, it was unlikely one would ever turn him in, and Anders was probably counting on that.

"I agree," Paden said. "Mages should be free. I was simply surprised by what you were asking of me."

Anders seemed surprised by her comment. "That's not usually the response I get," he admitted. "Perhaps we will work together better than I expected."

"Assuming I'm willing to work with you at all," Paden said. "You must be aware of what you're really asking of me." He was asking her to break the law, and possibly expose herself to Templar scrutiny, which was definitely the last thing any apostate needed.

"I do," Anders said with a nod. "But I may not be able to do this alone. You wanted my help; this is my price. You must decide how much those maps are worth to you."

Paden felt a nervous knot begin to form in her stomach. She glanced back at her companions, hoping to not have to make this decision on her own, since she was not the only one who would be put in danger; if they were caught, all of them would go to prison.

"How do we know you even have these maps?" Carver asked.

"You don't. But I have them. I have no use for them, and will gladly give them to you after Karl is safe."

"So you won't even show them to us?" Carver demanded. "We're risking a lot and we're just supposed to trust you?"

"I'm risking a lot just telling you about this," Anders countered, growing somewhat defensive against Carver's attitude. He looked at Paden instead. "I'm willing to give a little trust if you are."

"Sister, you can't possibly—"

Paden waved her hands to silence further argument. "I'm not going to agree to anything until I know more." She looked at Anders. "Why don't you tell me something about your friend?" Perhaps she would feel better about this whole thing if it wasn't all so vague.

"Fair enough," Anders said with a nod. "His name is Karl Thekla. He was sent here from Ferelden, when Kirkwall's Circle required new talent. His last letter said the Knight-Commander is turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made tranquil for the slightest crimes. I told him I would come."

"Are these accusations true?" Paden asked. She knew next to nothing about life in the Circle. But what Anders said seemed a bit extreme, even to her.

"Ask any mage in Kirkwall," Anders said. "Over a dozen were made tranquil just this year. The more people you ask, the worse the rumors become."

Paden didn't like the sound of that. She had never met a tranquil before, but her father had told her about them, since he had known some when he was in the Circle. A tranquil was a mage whose spirit had been cut off from the fade, leaving the mage as only a shell of their formal self, with no emotions or ambitions. They became essentially walking and talking bodies, but with nothing human left. The Templars made mages tranquil if there was reason to believe they weren't strong enough to survive an encounter with a demon in the fade, or if there was suspicion that one might be a blood mage. But it was always used as a last resort. Tranquil were supposed to be few and far between. The exception, not the rule. Or at least that's what her father always told her. He had only ever known three, and he had _lived_ in the Circle for many years. Over a dozen tranquil in one year sounded a lot more like the rule rather than the exception, and that was a scary thought.

If Anders' friend was in danger of being made tranquil, then Paden wanted to help save him if she could. No one deserved such a fate. "What do the Templars know of your plans?" she asked.

"I don't know," Anders admitted. "I have been exchanging notes with Karl through a maid servant in the Gallows. Then the letters stopped coming."

"So, how, exactly, do you plan to break him out of the Gallows?" Paden asked. "You can't exactly just waltz in past the courtyard any time you like, let alone waltzing back out again."

"I'm hoping it won't come to that," Anders said. "I sent Karl a message to meet me in the chantry tonight. Maker willing he'll be there, alone." Anders clenched his jaw and his fists. "But if there are Templars with him, I swear I will free him from them, whatever the cost."

The nervous knot in Paden's stomach grew a little larger. "I'm…not sure about attacking Templars," she said. That's the last thing they needed. "I might rather take my chances with the Darkspawn."

"If we fight the Templars it is because they decide that anyone who befriends a mage deserves death without question," Anders said, his voice wavering slightly.

"Doesn't fighting them prove their point?" Carver asked. "They don't need _more_ reasons to hunt us."

Paden had to admit that Carver's point was valid. Helping a fellow mage escape was dangerous enough. Fighting Templars seemed like suicide.

Just then one of the healer's aids came over and whispered something in Anders' ear. Anders nodded and sent the aid away.

"These are my terms," he said firmly to Paden. "If you want my aid with your expedition meet me in the chantry tonight. Maker willing we'll all leave free." He glanced over his shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am needed elsewhere." He bowed slightly to Paden, and then went to the other side of the room to tend to a patient.

Paden turned around to face her brother and Varric. "Well?" she said.

"We need to talk about this," Carver said. "Somewhere else."

Paden nodded her agreement and led the way out of the clinic.

"You can't possibly be seriously considering helping this mage," Carver said as they walked through Darktown.

"Why not?" Paden asked.

Carver laughed incredulously. "Are you kidding? I can think of a dozen reasons why not. Not the least of which is the possibility of _fighting_ _Templars_. Or did you not hear that part?"

"I heard it just fine, Carver," Paden said. "But what other choice do we have? He has the maps we need, and he won't give them to us unless we help him." That's what it came down to in the end, just like Anders had said. How much were the maps worth to them?

"We could just force him to give them to us."

Paden stopped walking and faced her brother. "Really? That's the better alternative? You worry me sometimes, Carver." She started walking again. "The healer's friend could be made tranquil, we should help him. Chances are there will be no Templars involved."

"Chances are there will," Carver argued.

"The only way I'm fighting Templars, Carver, is if they attack me first. I'm not signing up to hunt them down, don't worry. It's not like we have any other options."

"I hate to say it, Junior," Varric said, "But I have to agree with your sister. We don't have a plan B at this point."

Carver scratched his head and sighed. "Fine," he said. "But if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you." He pointed his finger at Paden.

"You always do, Brother," Paden said in resignation.

—

A/N: A big thank you to all my readers and reviewers! You guys keep me inspired to continue on with this story, even when I'm in a stuck place.


	12. Tranquility

**Act One**

**Chapter Twelve**

**Tranquility **

Hightown was quiet at night, except for the occasional barking dog. Crickets and katydids chirped from the stone walls around them as Paden, Carver and Varric made their way to the chantry. Paden's anxiety grew with each step she took. She could be willingly, and probably foolishly, putting herself in the direct sights of the Templars, for someone she had never even met. All for what? A set of maps that may or may not even help them?

She swallowed hard and focused her resolve. This is what they had decided to do. It was likely their only choice. She needed to keep that certainty in her mind and not turn back.

They took the long set of steps to the chantry door, and saw Anders waiting there. The sight of him sent Paden's heart rate up a few notches. She had almost been hoping they would arrive and not find him waiting, and they could go home and forget the whole thing. But there he was, and here they were, and whatever fate had in store for them tonight, their paths were now set.

"Good, you came," Anders said, not hiding the relief he felt. "I saw Karl go in a few minutes ago. No Templars so far. Are you ready?"

Paden nodded. "I haven't seen anyone. But let's do this quickly."

"All right," Anders said. "I'll handle the talking. You watch for Templars."

Anders carefully opened the chantry door and went inside. The others followed, walking softly so as not to make too much noise. The chantry was open day and night in case anyone wanted to come in and pray. So it wasn't unusual that they should be there. But drawing attention even from the mothers and sisters was probably not a good idea.

The chantry was a huge place. Everything was overstated, from the height of the ceiling to the size of the statues. Stacks of red candles, always burning, sat in clumps along the walls, dripping wax in ever widening pools across the floor. New candles were added to the remains of the old, until, over the years, they had become little wax mountains, obscuring the feet of the statues. Moonlight slanted down through high windows, accentuated by the smoke from burning incense. These were the only sources of light in the vast, pillared sanctuary. The smell of the incense tickled Paden's nose and made her feel a little light-headed. The utter _silence_ of the place unnerved her. They couldn't be done quickly enough.

Where would they find Karl? They figured the alter might be a good place to start looking, so they headed to the front of the building where a giant gold-plated statue of Andraste stood towering over the entire place.

But as they passed by a small side gallery, Paden noticed a man in Circle robes standing with his back to them. She stopped and pointed him out to Anders. Anders nodded and they approached the man, who must have heard them coming.

Without turning the man said, "Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would never give up." His voice sounded strangely flat.

"What's wrong?" Anders asked him. "Why are you talking like—"

"I was too rebellious, like you," Karl said, and turned around to face them. The red brand of the tranquil could be easily seen on his forehead. "The Templars knew I had to be…made an example of."

"No," Anders said, shaking his head. They were too late. The agony and desperation that Paden heard in Anders' voice nearly broke her heart. Karl had been made tranquil, and there was nothing they could do for him now.

"How else will mages ever master themselves?" Karl asked, his expressionless eyes staring at his friend, no conviction in his toneless voice, only simple acceptance. "You'll understand, Anders. As soon as the Templars teach you to control yourself."

Paden heard the sound of footsteps behind them and turned to see several Templars closing in, swords drawn. Was this a trap? She laid a hand on her staff, her fingers trembling. She glanced at Anders. He was looking from Karl to the Templars and back, like a caged animal preparing to fight.

Karl looked at the Templars and then gestured to Anders. "This is the apostate," he said.

"No!" Anders shouted, and suddenly a bright light filled his eyes and he went down on his knees, clutching his head.

Paden stepped back away from him in shock, able to do nothing else but stare. A strange form of energy began building in Anders, and white light began to trace twisted lines all over his body, as if he were filled with light that was trying to escape through cracks in his skin. Then the energy built to the exploding point, and white flames seem to burst from him, accompanied by wisps of what looked like black smoke. He stood up suddenly, white light shining from his eyes. He spoke in a deep, resonating voice that was not his own.

"You will never take another mage as you took him!" He drew his staff and aimed it at the stunned Templars. A blast of some kind of magic hit the closest Templar in the chest, throwing the man backward into two of his fellows.

For a moment all Paden could do was stare, mouth open in shock. What was she seeing? Was Anders possessed by a demon? Was she helping a blood mage? Or worse, an abomination? Her mind was numb, but she came to herself enough to realize that Anders was not the immediate threat. She drew her staff to defend herself against the approaching Templars. She would deal with Anders later.

Paden had never gone up against a Templar before. They were strong, well trained, and trained specifically to defeat mages. They were given lyrium to enhance their abilities and grant them some semblance of magic, though it wasn't real magic—at least they claimed it wasn't. But they used it to protect themselves from regular and magic attacks, and to dispel the the effects of magic spells cast at them, which Paden found to be quite frustrating, as several of her spells had no effect on them.

The skill wasn't sustainable though, so a lot of her attacks still got through. Plus there was Carver and Varric with their conventional weapons. But still, the fight was tough. There were only four of them and close to ten Templars, and more seemed to keep coming even as the first ones fell.

Throughout the battle Anders remained in his strange state of being. But his powers seemed to be augmented by whatever was causing it, and no Templar could touch him.

After several minutes of fighting, Paden began to feel exhaustion setting in. She was having difficulty drawing energy from the fade and her spells weren't as reliable. She had to get some lyrium potion! If she survived this battle she would go buy some potion first thing in the morning. It was too important to keep postponing, and now she finally had the coin.

Paden took a deep breath, as if that would help her regain some of her strength. But of course it didn't. Suddenly something smashed into the back of her left shoulder and she went sprawling to the floor. She looked up in a slight daze to see a Templar heading toward her, sword ready to cut off her head. He must have knocked her down with his shield. She tried to cast a repulsing spell to knock him backwards, but nothing happened. She just didn't have enough strength left.

So she rolled out of the way, and then scrambled as the Templar followed her. She got to her feet and turned to face him, but she knew her wooden staff would not stand up against a sword.

Suddenly Paden felt like what she could only describe as a long, cool drink of water wash through her. Her mind cleared and she felt new life in her bones. She stood up straight and threw a spell at the approaching Templar. The man was thrown back off his feet and slammed into the wall behind him. Then Paden stretched out her hand toward him and shot a bolt of electricity into his body. He never got up again.

Once that threat had been taken care of, Paden glanced around. Where had that bonus to her power come from? She looked at Anders, still fighting Templars, eyes blazing. Had he done that? She didn't know where else it could have come from. She'd have to ask him about it later. That is, if he was still around later. She didn't know what this all meant, but it was clear nothing was as it seemed.

A moment later all the Templars lay still. Paden took a quick look around, making sure Carver and Varric were all right. They were. And Anders stood in the midst of Templar bodies, his eyes still glowing, black smoke still drifting off his body. Karl stood behind him, and spoke with a shocked and amazed tone.

"Anders, what did you do?"

Anders's eyes suddenly returned to normal, and the intense energy that had emanated from him dissipated.

"It's like…you brought a piece of the fade into this world," Karl said, his eyes clear, voice strong and full of emotion. "I had already forgotten what that feels like."

Anders turned to face his friend, and the others gathered around.

"What _did_ you do?" Paden asked warily. "Not the fade part. The angry, glowing bit."

"It's like a gateway to the fade inside you," Karl said. "Glowing like a beacon."

Yes, Karl couldn't have said it better. That's exactly what it felt like.

Anders glanced at Paden. "I have some…unique circumstances, yes." He looked back at his friend. "But Karl, what happened? How did they get you?"

"The Templars here are far more vigilant than in Ferelden," Karl said. "They found a letter I was writing you." He shook his head. "You cannot imagine it, Anders. All the color, all the music in the world, gone. I would gladly give up my magic, but this! I'll never be whole again. Please!" he begged. "Kill me before I forget again. I don't know how you brought it back, but it's fading." The desperation in his eyes showed how serious he was.

"Karl, no!" Anders said.

"Maybe we can find a cure?" Paden offered, though as soon as she said it she realized how silly it must sound. There was no known cure for tranquil.

"Can you cure a beheading?" Anders said, looking at her. "The dreams of tranquil mages are severed. There is nothing left of them to fix."

"I would rather die a mage, than live as a Templar puppet," Karl said with conviction.

Paden closed her eyes briefly. So this is what her parents had been protecting her from all these years. Seeing Karl now drove it home to her more than any words had before. If death was the only escape from such a passive, passionless existence, she would rather have death. But what a horrible decision to have to make. To kill a loved one, no matter the circumstances…Paden wasn't sure she could ever bring herself to do such a thing. She had watched Aveline end her suffering husband's life, and now she watched as Anders struggled with the same decision. The look of desperation and utter _hurt_ on his face broke Paden's heart. He was faltering, refusing to admit the inevitable, unwilling to hear his friend's pleas. Paden rested her hand lightly on his arm to get his attention.

"I would rather die than be made tranquil," she said in nearly a whisper. "Give him peace."

Anders sent her a brief glance and then looked back at Karl. "I got here too late," he moaned. "I'm sorry, Karl. I'm so sorry."

"Now! It's fading…" Karl said, clutching his head with his hands as if he might be able to physically stop it from happening. But of course he could not. A moment later his hands lowered to his sides. All expression and emotion had left his face, the spark gone from his eyes. He looked at Anders, confused. "Why do you look at me like that?" he asked, his voice flat and lifeless.

Anders stood there for a moment, blinking, and Paden could see the resolve finally begin to gather in his eyes. Anders walked close to Karl and drew a small knife from his belt. "Good bye," he said softly, and came close enough as if he were going to hug his friend, but instead he ran the blade deep between Karl's ribs. The man gasped, and his body went limp. Anders caught him, and then lowered him to the floor.

Paden tried swallowing past the lump in her throat, but it was painful. Her heart went out to Anders in that moment. Regardless of what had happened with the Templars; regardless of Anders' "unique circumstances" and what that might mean; in that moment he was a normal, deeply feeling human man who had just been forced to slay a friend. In that moment he was both strong and weak, beyond what the average man ever had to experience. In that moment Paden's respect for Anders only increased.

Anders turned around and walked past Paden, his face expressionless. "We should leave before more Templars come," he said.

Paden glanced back at Karl's body one last time, and then followed Anders from the chantry. He didn't wait for them to catch up once they were outside, but walked swiftly back toward Darktown without looking to make sure they were following. Paden figured he didn't want their company right then, and she understood and kept her distance.

"Well, that was all very unexpected," Varric said quietly as they walked.

"Creepy is what it was," Carver said. "What exactly happened?"

Paden shook her head. "I don't know for certain. I don't want to believe it, but Anders may be…possessed. I don't know."

"Possessed?" Varric said. "Like with a demon? That would make him the bad guy, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know," Paden admitted. "I've never encountered an abomination before. But that…what he did in there…that's not something I've ever seen or even heard of. And the power coming from him…I know you two couldn't feel it, but it was strong. Stronger than anything I've ever felt before. Something else was there. Something more powerful than Anders."

"Well this all is giving me the creeps," Varric said. "I say we just get the maps from him and then leave him be. We don't need to be mixing ourselves up with abominations."

"For once I agree with the dwarf," Carver said.

"We'll get the maps," Paden assured. But she said nothing else after that. She didn't know what to think of Anders. She wasn't completely sold on the idea he was an abomination. There was nothing malevolent about him. And once he had returned to normal he seemed…well, normal. Abominations weren't known for returning to normal. She would get to the bottom of this or she knew she wouldn't sleep a wink that night.

They finally arrived back at Anders's clinic where they caught up with him. He turned to face them as they came in, sorrow etched in his face.

As much as Paden felt for him and wanted to give him his space, she needed her questions answered. "So, what was all that about?" she asked. "What you did in the chantry…that wasn't normal. Is this the part where you tell me you're an abomination?"

"You're wrong," Anders said. "But not far wrong. I…this is hard to explain." He sighed and let his shoulders sag, looking exhausted. "When I was in Amaranthine I met a spirit of Justice, who was trapped outside the fade. We became friends. And he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day."

"So wait, a spirit. That's…different than a demon?" Paden asked.

Anders nodded. "Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits that embody our virtues," he explained. "Spirits of compassion, fortitude, justice. They are the Maker's first children, and have all but given up on us."

Paden frowned slightly, beginning to see where he was going with this, but wishing he'd just get to the point. "All right, I can accept that, but what does this have to do with your eyes glowing, and all that other racket?"

Anders scratched the back of his neck and shifted, nudging the loose dirt on the floor with the toe of his boot. "To live outside the fade, he needed a host," he said. "I offered to help him."

Paden let out a soft, involuntary groan as she rubbed her brow. Anders heard it and looked up at her. "We were going to work together," he said. "Bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle." He paused, closing his eyes briefly. "But…I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me he…changed."

"So…you have this spirit of Justice living in your head," Paden said, trying to make sense of it.

"It's not like that," Anders said. "He's gone now. He's part of me. It's not like we can have a conversation. I feel his thoughts as my own. Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where I end and he begins."

"Can you control it? Bring him out at will?" Paden asked curiously.

Anders shook his head. "No. He comes only when I've lost all power over myself. It's a madness, a frenzy. I only find out after what I might have done." He furrowed his brow and glanced away, deep pain evident in his expression.

"I'm sorry for so many questions," Paden said. "This is obviously difficult for you." She didn't mean to interrogate him, she just wanted things set straight, to understand what happened.

"Difficult for him?" Carver said. "We'll be hunted for sure now."

"I thought I was helping my friend, when I did it," Anders said. "Justice would have…died, I guess. If that even means anything. And he wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered."

"You were just trying to help a friend," Paden said. "Right? If he's not a demon, what harm could come from that?"

Anders looked at her, and the sadness and—regret?—in his eyes was almost crushing. "I wish I still had your innocence," he said, his voice wavering as he battled his emotions. "There was too much hatred in me. Justice thought he would overcome that. But my anger…things that have always outraged me—but could never do anything about…" He clenched his fists and looked at the floor. "He comes out," he nearly whispered. "And he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy."

Paden stared at Anders for a moment, trying to put it all together—what he was telling her and what she had witnessed at the chantry. The thought of Anders playing host to a dangerous, unpredictable and uncontrollable spirit frightened her. Isn't that why Templars feared mages so much, because of their ability to play host to such spirits? Because of the danger of them becoming abominations?

But Anders wasn't an abomination, was he? Justice wasn't a demon, and only mages possessed by demons were considered abominations, right? It was all so complicated. She didn't know what to think, and frankly she felt a bit overwhelmed. She didn't know what else to say, either. How does one talk about such things anyway? But regardless of Anders' poor choices and resulting burdens, Paden felt a strong empathy for him. It was obvious he had gone through a lot of trials in his life that had left their mark on him, and now this whole thing with Karl. He looked like he was on the verge of breaking down, of giving in to the emotions that he was obviously fighting against. She had a strange and overwhelming desire to go over to him, put her arm around him and let him cry. But she knew she would not appreciate it if someone did that to her, and figured he would feel likewise about it.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked instead, gesturing helplessly, since she knew there really was nothing she could do.

"You're the first one I've ever told this," Anders admitted softly. "Thank you for not running away."

Paden inclined her head, and then, after a moment said, "I'm…sorry…about what happened with Karl."

Anders' jaw clenched and he glanced away, shifting uncomfortably. "Karl is at peace now," he said, his voice strained. He ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, scratching his scalp as he drew a heavy sigh. "My maps are yours," he said, deflecting the topic. "As am I if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Gray Wardens. But…if you have any need of me, I'll be here." He handed Paden a packet of folded papers, and then rubbed his eyes wearily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to rest." Without another word he turned and left into another room.

Paden stared at the empty doorway for a moment before turning to look at the others. "Well, I wasn't expecting that," she said softly.

"Neither was I," Varric said. "Still pretty creepy though."

"Very creepy," Carver agreed.

"I think it's sad," Paden said. "He was only trying to help Justice, and now he's trapped."

"Well, I say it serves him right," Carver said as they left the clinic.

"Have a little heart, Carver, the man just had to kill his best friend."

"I'll give him that," Carver said. "But we're not really going to take him with us on the expedition are we?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" Paden asked, raising her voice slightly, feeling like she needed to defend Anders. "There isn't going to be an expedition at this point; we still have a lot of coin to get."

"Well, if you ask me—aside from the whole glowing eyes thing, we could probably use a Gray Warden on the expedition," Varric said. "Not to mention a healer. He would be very useful."

"You have a point, Varric," Paden agreed. "We'll have to see what comes between now and then."

—

A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! And an extra special thank you to my betas. You guys are the best!


	13. The Secret Friend

**A/N: **This is a short chapter, so, as a bonus I'm posting two this week!

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Secret Friend**

The next day, Paden spent some time out on her own. So much had happened the last few days, and she hadn't had much time to process it all. The main thing on her mind, though, was Anders. She had lain awake for a couple hours last night thinking about him and his poor friend Karl, and that whole thing with the spirit of Justice. It was enough to chase anyone off for good, or at least give them a pretty big headache. But Paden didn't feel that way about it. She had an overwhelming desire to help Anders, though she knew there was nothing she could do. His problems were beyond anyone.

But perhaps she could just be his friend, if he wanted one. Maybe all he really needed was someone who would lend an understanding ear. He had said that she was the first he'd ever told about Justice. He probably wouldn't have told her had Justice not manifested when he did, but still, she felt a bit honored that he would trust her with his secret, especially after only just meeting him. She felt a close connection to him, as if she had known him a lot longer than she actually had. She had to stop herself several times that day from going back to Anders's clinic to see him again. She didn't want to crowd him. And what if he didn't really want to see her again?

She sighed and shook her head. No, she would wait, a little while anyway. Maybe a day at least, to allow him to recover from the situation with Karl. But she would go visit him, that much was a certainty.

Paden had taken the loot she recovered from the Amell cellars to the Lowtown market in the morning and sold all of it, making a whole sovereign in gold. Now she had some errands she needed to run, and she finally was done being alone.

She went back home to see what Carver was doing. When she walked in Gamlen was standing by the desk shaking an envelope next to his ear. When he saw Paden he startled slightly and held the envelope out to her.

"A letter came for you while you were gone," he said. "I was just putting it here on the desk."

Paden quirked an eyebrow at him. "Really? Is that all? You weren't checking it for coin or anything?"

Gamlen sputtered. "I was just making sure nothing would fall out."

"Gamlen," Leandra scolded with a sigh.

Paden snatched the letter from his hand and went to the other side of the room to read it. It was from Athenril.

_Hawke,_

_I know we didn't part on the best terms. You were right, I was trying to squeeze more work out of you than was justified. You've more than paid your way into the city. It's been tight since you left, though. If you're looking for more work, for real coin in your pocket, come see me in Hightown, anytime before sunset._

_Athenril_

"Hm," Paden grunted. "Athenril's actually apologizing for trying to take advantage of me. Sort of."

"What got into her?" Carver said.

"She wants us to keep working for her," Paden said. "For coin this time."

Carver laughed incredulously. "You can just tell her to shove off," he said.

Paden made no further comment, but she felt inclined to at least see what kind of work and pay Athenril might have for them. Could they really afford to be that picky? It was work being offered, and at the moment it was the only offer they had.

Paden folded the letter and stuffed it into her pocket. Then she went to lean against the wall next to Carver. "Come with me to the Gallows?" she asked.

He looked up at her. "What? Are you joking?"

Paden shook her head. "I need to get some lyrium potion. There was a dealer in Lowtown that carried some before, but she's sold out now. The Gallows is the only other place I can think of to find some."

"You're asking for trouble, Sister," Carver said.

"Not really," Paden said. "You think they'll be surprised to see another mage there? I'll be just one in a multitude. And besides, it's not like I'm going to go stand in the middle of the courtyard and perform a blood ritual. There's so many people there all the time, they won't even notice us." She sounded sure of herself, but inside she was shaking at the idea of even stepping off the ferry at the Gallows docks.

"If you say so, Sister. I'll go just to keep you out of trouble."

"Well, thanks for that," Paden said, taking what she could get. Tensions had been high between them since their argument the other day. She wished there was something she could do about it, but Carver was stubborn.

They headed out to the Gallows, which was no small task, since they had to board a ferry to take them across the harbor. The Gallows stood alone on a small island in the middle of the bay; the perfect place for a prison. Even though it wasn't used as a prison anymore, a lot of people—especially mages—still thought of it as one.

Paden hadn't been back there since that day Gamlen had arranged for the bribe to get them into the city a year ago. It still looked exactly the same as it had then. As she walked through the huge southern gate and gazed up at the bronze statues of slaves bound in torment, the same old feelings of being trapped crept over her. She forced herself to keep walking without so much as a hesitation to indicate her feelings. She wasn't trapped here now like she had been a year ago. The gate was wide open, and she would be able to leave any time she liked.

Paden could see at least a dozen Templars upon first glance. Some were on guard duty, keeping a watchful eye, while others milled around in pairs or groups, seemingly paying no heed to others around them. None of them were looking for apostates in the Gallows. They were simply there to keep the peace. As long as Paden did nothing to shatter that peace she should be fine.

Paden remembered a couple shops where mages were allowed to sell their crafts. She was hoping that one of them might carry some lyrium. They found the shop, exactly where it had stood a year ago. Paden began to browse the wares, mostly potions and enchanted trinkets. She carefully looked at each bottle, but she didn't see any lyrium. Of course, it was unlikely it would be displayed with the other wares.

"Good day," the shop keeper said to her. He was a Circle mage who wore enchanter's robes. "Welcome to Sol's Shop. I am Solivitus. Is there anything I can help you find?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you're permitted to sell lyrium potions here?" Paden asked.

Sol arched an eyebrow and glanced around. "No, not exactly," he said. "But…for the right price I do carry some secret supply in the back." He put a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise.

"For the right price?" Paden said.

"I have to cover my risks," Sol explained.

"I have coin," Paden said, and it felt good to say it.

"Well then, fifty silver per bottle, and not a copper less I'm afraid. It's not the easiest product to get ahold of, nor the safest to keep in stock."

"That's a bit steep, though," Paden said.

"Will you be a regular customer?" Sol asked.

"If your prices were lower and you're a reliable provider."

Sol smiled. "Then I'll tell you what I can do for you. They don't let me out of the Gallows often, which makes it difficult for me to replenish my crafting supplies. If you were able to retrieve some things for me, I could give you a handsome discount on anything you purchase from my shop. Does that sound like a good deal?"

Paden smiled. "It does. Just give me a list of what you need."

"Excellent," Sol said, rubbing his hands together. "I'll get you that item then. How many would you like?"

"Two for now," Paden said. "Thank you."

Sol went to the back of his booth and unlocked a heavy chest.

"I was wondering," Paden said conversationally. "Have you heard of a mage here called Tobrius?"

"Tobrius?" Sol said, glancing up at her. "Of course. He's been here longer than I have." He retrieved two small vials from the chest and handed them to Paden. "Here you are. Go ahead and put them away quickly; no need to attract the wrong kind of attention, if you get my meaning." He glanced around to make sure no Templars were nearby.

Paden took the vials and tucked them into her belt pouch. Then she handed Sol the money. "Would you happen to know where I might find Tobrius?" she asked.

"He's usually in the courtyard this time of day," Sol said. "An older man, gray beard, gray eyes. Usually wears a purple cowl."

"Thank you," Paden said.

She motioned to Carver, who had wandered over to the neighboring shop to browse, and then they went back into the main courtyard. Paden looked around for a man matching Sol's description of Tobrius, and finally she spotted someone in a purple mage's cowl.

They approached him, and the expression on his face when he saw them indicated that he recognized them.

"More mages," Carver said, irritated. "You talk. I'm going to ask the guards about their training."

Paden glanced back over her shoulder and saw Carver walking away. She didn't try to stop him. If he didn't want to associate with other mages, that was his choice.

She turned back to the man in the cowl.

"I know your face," he said. "I am Tobrius. You and that man are both Hawkes." He pointed to Carver, who was by then half way across the courtyard.

Paden frowned. "You recognize us? But we've never met you."

"I remember your father," Tobrius said. "Malcolm was a good man."

"I found a letter you sent," Paden said. "About a friend of his you could not name."

"Ah, the Templar," Tobrius said. "Your father could not write to him directly, lest the Order find out."

"The Templar?" Paden said, arching her eyebrows in surprise.

"He allowed your father to leave Kirkwall," Tobrius said. "'Rule is not served by caging the best of us.' A wise man."

"Not something I would expect from a Templar," Paden admitted.

"There was a time when the rules of the Order could be…interpreted to suit a situation. Unlike these days." Tobrius turned away from her, and then looked back over his shoulder. "I will send the letters I held," he said. "It seems fitting that they return to family." And with that he walked off, leaving Paden standing in the courtyard.

She frowned. Was he going to return with the letters? She hopped he would. While she waited to see for sure, she browsed the wares of a weapons dealer in the courtyard, though her mind wasn't on what she was looking at. She was thinking about what she had just learned. Her father had been friends with a Templar in the Gallows, and that man had helped her father escape to become an apostate. She had never heard of a Templar doing that before. They must have been very close friends for him to risk so much.

After a while Paden felt someone come up behind her and she turned to see Tobrius there, a pack of letters in his hands.

"Such a friendship," he said. "Few like your father remain. Even fewer like the Templar." He handed the letters to Paden. "Rest well at the Maker's side, Ser Maurevar Carver."

Paden looked up in surprise upon hearing the Templar's name, but Tobrius had already turned away. Paden glanced at the letters, then opened one and read it quickly. They were all written by her father, sent to Tobrius, but meant for the secret friend, the Templar.

Paden knew the letters would interest Carver a great deal, and perhaps they would help to loosen some of the tension between them as well. At least that's what she hoped for as she approached him by the fireplace later that night.

"Here, I got you something," she said, handing him the stack of letters.

"Why?" Carver asked suspiciously.

"We ended on a…tense note the other day. Take it as you will."

Carver took a look at the letters. "These are by father," he said. "Are you sure they aren't meant for you? I bet another mage could get more out of them."

Paden shook her head and came closer, taking one of the letters out of the stack and opening it for him. She handed it back and pointed to a particular line of text. Carver read it aloud.

"For your service that cannot be admitted, I ask that you accept this trinket, and know that I shall respect your name. Thank you, conscience of the Order, Ser Maurevar Carver." He looked up from the letter in surprise. "Carver?"

"The Templar who allowed Father to leave Kirkwall," Paden explained. "Your namesake."

"A Templar?" Carver said, still in surprise. "Have we met a Templar who isn't a colossal prig?"

Paden shrugged as she looked at the fire. "Father must have felt he was worth honoring. I read the letters. Father seemed very fond of him, and very grateful for the friendship. I think if it wasn't for that Templar, Father would never have escaped the Circle or had a life of his own."

Carver stared down at the letters. "A man who let him look ahead," he said softly. "A name that let him have a future—a way to go forward. That's what I was to him."

Paden nodded and gave her brother a soft smile. "Father was proud of you, Carver. I know he was. You were the child he really wanted—not me or Bethany."

"And what makes you think that?" Carver asked, a bitter note entering his voice. "He spent much more time with the two of you than he ever did with me."

"Out of necessity, I think," Paden said. "It was more important that she and I be trained in our skills diligently and as soon as possible. You remember what it was like when Bethany was learning to control her abilities. It was like that for me, too. He needed to focus on her as often as he could so that she wouldn't accidentally blow up Lothering one day. But I know he didn't want mage children. And when you turned out to be free of magic he was very relieved."

"Did he tell you that?" Carver said in surprise.

Paden shook her head. "I overheard him talking to mother once."

"Why did you never tell me this?"

Paden shrugged and glanced at her brother. "I was a child. It didn't matter to me then. But… it does now. It matters to me that you know how proud father was of you. I think he saw you as what he always wished he could have been."

Carver looked at her, a grateful and almost soft expression on his face. "I…don't know what to say, except…thank you…for telling me."

Paden didn't expect more than that from him. For Carver that was a lot, and it meant a lot to Paden to hear him say it. She knew that for him to know that their father valued Carver that much was a big deal. She hoped this would be a step toward Carver's own future. One that he could be proud of.

—

**A/N:** I had decided at the very beginning that I wasn't going to include any of the DLC content in this story, since I didn't have it when I originally played Paden. I have since played her two more times with the DLC, but I'm still not going to include most of it, like Sebastian, or either of the DLC quests. I may have the dog later on, though. All that to say, since I'm not including DLC quests, I thought it would be fun to add the bit about Malcolm not wanting mage children (something they don't learn until Legacy). I figured it would have been an easy thing for Paden to overhear as a child. Anyway, those are my reasons, and I thought it added a nice touch to the end of this canon scene.


	14. Diamondback

**A/N:** As promised, the bonus chapter for this week. Hope you enjoy!

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Diamondback**

On the following day Paden again tried to go about her business without thinking about Anders, but she still wasn't very successful. She knew she wouldn't be content until she saw him again. She needed to know that he was all right after the other night.

So, good idea or not, she headed into Darktown alone, not telling anyone where she was going. She remembered the way to Anders' clinic and she was confident in her abilities to take care of herself.

As she entered the clinic her heart beat a little faster. Would he appreciate seeing her again, or would she be an unwelcome reminder of the other night?

He was talking with a patient on the other side of the room, but he was facing the door, so he noticed her when she walked in. He made eye contact and held up one finger, asking her to wait.

She nodded and wandered over to an empty corner. She clasped her hands behind her back and shuffled about restlessly as she gazed around the room. The clinic was a rough place, just like the rest of Darktown. The floor was dirt and the walls and ceiling were crumbling and covered with cobwebs in the highest reaches. But relatively speaking it was clean and well kept. It was the most inviting place in Darktown Paden had seen thus far, and there was still that same calming atmosphere she had felt on her first visit.

Finally Anders finished with his patient and came over to Paden, a smile on his face that reached all the way to his eyes. Such a difference from the other night. He actually looked pleased to see her.

"You remind me of a friend I had once," he said. "She was always getting into all kinds of trouble, dragging me along." He arched one eyebrow as if asking a question.

Paden laughed. "Sounds like me. Would you like me to drag you along?"

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Maybe." Then his smile faded slightly. "I got a bit weighty the last time we talked. Sorry for putting that on you."

Paden shook her head and waved it away. "You can tell me anything," she said.

"Anything?" Anders said, arching his eyebrows and giving another lopsided grin. "Be careful what you offer." He glanced down at his hands. "I just…I hope I didn't seem too selfish when I told you about Justice."

"No, not at all," Paden assured. "You just wanted me to understand."

He looked up at her again. "I didn't know what would happen," he said, as if he felt like he still needed to justify his actions to her. "I figured a friend, a willing host…it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse." He clearly wanted, or _needed_ her to understand. Paden was more than willing to oblige him.

"It's all right, Anders. You don't have to keep trying to convince me. I understand. We can't always predict the outcome of our actions. We can only make them with a true heart." She didn't blame Anders for wanting to help Justice. Who's to say she wouldn't have done the same thing in his place?

Anders smiled, relieved, and obviously pleased with what she said. "Kind, wise _and_ beautiful," he said. "You must have made a deal with some demons yourself."

Paden arched her eyebrows, did he just say she was beautiful? He seemed shocked by his own words, and blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't presume," he stammered. "I just…we've hardly met and I feel like I know you."

Paden swallowed and glanced away, unable to wipe the silly grin off her face. She had never had a man compliment her like that before. Not in a sincere way. Not without an ulterior motive. The men she had met in her line of work would give her compliments like that all the time, but theirs always seemed like an attempt to get their foot in the door, rather than being a genuine expression of how they truly felt. She looked back at Anders, meeting his amber gaze for a moment, and she knew that he was sincere. He really thought she was beautiful. That realization made her heart flutter and her cheeks blush.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Anders asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

Paden smiled shyly and shook her head. No, he was making her feel wonderful. "Keep telling me I'm beautiful," she said, her voice quivering slightly. "You can't go wrong with that."

Anders gave her that lopsided smile again. "Oh, I'm sure I can get more creative than that," he said, and then the smile vanished and he turned away. "No I…I shouldn't do this. I don't want to hurt you."

Paden's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would you hurt me?"

Anders went over to a nearby cot and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm not a safe man to get involved with," he explained. "You saw what I did in the chantry. That's who I am. A year ago, maybe we could have had something. But I'm not that man anymore." He closed his eyes. "I'll break your heart, and that might kill me as surely as the Templars."

Paden stood there looking down at him for a moment, her thoughts and emotions swirling like a tempest inside her. What was he doing, drawing her in with his wit and charm, making her feel like something other than a piece of meat, only to turn around and drop a load of bricks on her like that? She swallowed hard, not willing to let him go so easily. She sat down on the cot beside him.

"Don't you think that's my risk to take?" she asked him softly.

He glanced over at her and shook his head. "I shouldn't have said anything before. I wasn't thinking, I apologize."

"Don't apologize," Paden said. "You were only speaking your thoughts." She smiled slightly. "It's flattering that you would think so of me." She watched him for a moment, but he continued to stare straight ahead, apparently unwilling to back down after having made up his mind. This saddened Paden, but what was she expecting anyway? They had just met. She didn't come here hoping to start a romance—in fact that hadn't even entered her mind until the moment he told her she was beautiful. She had just wanted to be his friend.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes. "Would…would you be willing to be my friend at least? We just met. Nothing need go beyond friendship just now."

He looked over at her. "You'd like to be my friend? I know a lot of people, but not many I could truly call a friend."

"Well, consider me one then," Paden said with a smile. "I don't have many myself."

"All right then. Friends," Anders said, his smile lighting his eyes again. He held out his hand to her, and with a slight laugh she took it and they shook on it.

"So, friend," she said, standing up and facing him. "We're all hanging out at the Hanged Man tonight. Cards and drinks, that sort of thing. Why don't you join us?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Anders said. "I don't think your brother likes me much."

"He doesn't really like anybody," Paden said. "Come on. I'd love it if you came."

Anders stood up. "Thank you for the invitation. I…may come."

—

Night time at the Hanged Man was busy. The miners got off work, and the first place they went to was the bars to drink away their sorry plight. But the Hanged Man was a big place, and there was usually room enough for everyone. And if there wasn't, Varric had a good sized table in his suite there. But for the atmosphere that night they chose to sit on the main floor at one of the larger tables.

Paden sipped her ale slowly, every now and then glancing at the door, hoping to see Anders come in. They had been there for nearly a half hour already. She was starting to wonder if he really wasn't going to show.

"All right, Dealer's Diamondback," Varric said, shuffling a tall deck of cards. "I'm the dealer, so I'm putting in an ante…let's say three bits."

"Three bits?" Carver exclaimed. "I can buy a mug of Corff's finest for that much."

Varric laughed. "Corff's finest is worth only three bits. Come on, chuck it out, Junior."

Paden took three copper coins from her stack and tossed them onto the center of the table. Carver did likewise.

"Why do we have to play _Dealer's_ Diamondback?" Carver complained.

"So I can get your ante if you fold, obviously," Varric said. He began dealing cards, two facedown to each player.

Paden glanced at the door again and sighed softly. She took another sip of her ale as she peeled back her cards to see what she got.

A king and a priest. That was one of the worst hands she could get.

"First bet is five bits," Varric announced after he looked at his own cards. "You in, Junior?"

Carver studied his cards a lot longer than necessary. "All right," he said, and tossed the coins onto the table.

"Hawke? You in?"

Paden glanced at her cards again. There was only one way she would be able to win with that hand, and that was if both Carver and Varric got double priests or nothing. But before she could make a decision, the door opened and Anders walked in. He stood there a moment, glancing around the room, trying to find a familiar face in the dim lighting. Paden noticed her heart rate increase a little and she forced herself to act normal.

"Oh, look who it is," she said, and stood up slightly, waving to get his attention. Anders saw her and smiled as he made his way over.

"What's he doing here?" Carver asked. "Did you invite him?"

"I might have," Paden said. "Be nice, Carver." She grinned at Anders once he reached their table. "Hello, so glad you could make it," she said.

"Grab a chair, Blondie," Varric offered, gesturing to an empty seat.

"Thank you," Anders said as he sat down. "What's the game?"

"Diamondback," Paden offered. "Deal him in, Varric."

"We already started betting this round," Carver said.

"Well, then let's deal again," Paden said, tossing her cards on the pot. A good excuse to acquire a better hand anyway.

"We'd need a whole other deck to deal four people," Carver said, apparently very eager to find an excuse to exclude Anders from their table.

"Who do you take me for, Junior?" Varric asked. "I always have an extra deck up my sleeve."

"I hope you don't hide an extra Magician up there as well," Anders said with a wry smile.

"Come on, Blondie, I don't cheat," Varric said, spreading his hands.

Paden chuckled. "I should hope not, Varric."

Varric took out another deck and spent a few moments shuffling them together. "So, Blondie, you play Diamondback?"

"I have. When I was with the Wardens I'd sit in on a few games. I'm probably a bit rusty though."

"What do you drink?" Paden asked Anders.

"Oh, I'll…have whatever you're having," he said, gesturing to her half empty mug.

Paden motioned to the waitress to bring over another ale.

"Not a big drinker?" Carver asked.

"Not anymore, no," Anders said. "But back in the day I could drink the socks off pretty much anyone who challenged me."

"So why not anymore?" Carver asked.

"Well, Justice doesn't like it when I get drunk," Anders admitted. "It got to be no fun anymore."

Carver and Varric exchanged awkward glances. They had probably been trying to forget about Justice.

The waitress set a mug down in front of Anders, but he didn't touch it right away.

"So, the ante is three bits," Varric said. "You came with coin, right?"

Anders took out his coin purse and tossed three coppers onto the table. Varric began dealing.

Paden glanced at her cards. A priestess and a queen. Not bad. She was definitely staying in the game.

"Same bet as before," Varric said. "Five bits to stay in the game." They all tossed their money into the pot. "Turn a card over," Varric instructed for Anders' benefit.

Paden glanced at her cards again and chose to turn over the queen. Carver held a priest, and Anders held a magician.

"Ooh," Varric said. "Blondie has the potential to win the pot tonight with that magician." He turned over his own card, which was a king.

"Another round of bets," he said, tossing six bits into the pot. "Six. Give it or leave it."

Paden considered. She thought she had a pretty good hand. She decided she'd stay in the game. Anders and Carver both matched Varric's bet as well.

"Excellent," Varric said. "Round two show of hands."

Paden turned up her priestess. Carver turned over a king, and Anders showed a priest."

"Oh, so close, Blondie," Varric said. "But no magic." He turned up his card to reveal a priestess. Paden and Carver groaned.

"What?" Anders asked. "I admit I'm not very good at this game. Did he just win?"

Paden nodded. "His cards score fifty points together. I got forty-five points, Carver has…" she chuckled, "Ten points, and you got thirty."

Varric gathered the coins and pulled them to his side of the table.

"It's the scoring I never remember," Anders admitted.

"I wish you would quit taking my coin, dwarf," Carver complained.

Varric chuckled. "If you want to keep your coin, Junior, then quit losing."

"Well we could at least play regular Diamondback so we don't have to ante," Carver said.

"I have to agree with my brother on this one, Varric. We're trying to save our coin, after all."

"Yes, and a free clinic doesn't exactly provide a substantial income," Anders agreed.

All right, all right," Varric consented. He gathered their cards and began reshuffling the deck. "So… a human, an elf and a dwarf all walk into a bar…"

Anders grinned. "The human says, 'you're lucky you're so short; that hurt like mad!"

Varric stopped shuffling to cast a sideways glance at the healer. "You could have just stopped me, Blondie."

"Why waste a perfectly good setup?"

Paden giggled and took a sip of her ale, her eyes smiling at Anders over the rim of her mug. He returned the smile, but then quickly looked away.

"So, Anders," she said. "You were a Gray Warden at Amaranthine?"

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. "For a short time, yes."

"Did you really leave because they made you get rid of your cat?"

He smiled thoughtfully and shook his head. "No, that's not the only reason," he admitted.

He didn't elaborate, so Paden pressed. "Then why? Was it not what you thought it would be when you joined?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I didn't join the Wardens by choice."

"How is one forced to become a Warden?" Carver asked. "I thought they recruit their ranks."

"Usually they do," Anders agreed. "But they can also invoke the right of conscription."

"You were conscripted? Why?" Paden asked.

"As an act of mercy from a friend I guess," Anders said. "I would have been returned to the Circle by the Templars if the Warden Commander hadn't stepped in and conscripted me. It was the only way she had authority over the Templars' right."

"But wasn't being a Warden better than being imprisoned in the Circle?" Paden asked.

Anders shrugged. "It has its pros and cons. I escaped the Circle so many times it almost didn't matter anymore if I was caught; I'd just escape again. But the Wardens… well, it's a different kind of prison I suppose." He took another sip of his ale and then grinned suddenly. "But at least they had pie. That was a definite perk."

Paden chuckled as Varric began dealing another round, and they all paused to study their cards. Paden held a queen and a priest. Not worth the effort.

"So you served with the Warden Commander then?" Varric said. "As in Queen of Ferelden Warden Commender? Married to the King? Slayer of the Arch Demon?"

"The one and only," Anders confirmed.

"And what was that like?" Varric asked.

"It was great," Anders said with that lopsided smile of his. "We'd stay up all night drinking and playing Diamondback while having belching contests. And in the morning we'd go out and kill a few dozen Darkspawn."

Paden gaped at him in surprise. "You're not serious, right? Belching contests?"

"Well, I guess I never did that with the Warden Commander. But there was this one dwarf there who was pretty good at it." He took a sip of his drink and then tossed his bet on the table. "Seriously though, she was a good warrior, and a good person. She cared about people and always put her men first. I consider her one of my few real friends. It was a real honor serving under her command."

"If you liked her so much then why did you leave her?" Carver asked.

Anders chuckled and scratched the stubble on his chin. "Truth be told, I couldn't leave her. I tried once. Left after a few months in service. Didn't stay gone long though. Didn't feel right, to abandon her like that, after everything she did for me. So I came back."

"But then you left again anyway, and came here," Paden said.

Anders nodded. "Well, she wasn't the Warden Commander forever. There came the day when she went back to Denerim to continue being queen, and I was left with the new Warden Commander." A far away look entered Anders' eyes, and his brow creased with the memory of some long ago event that was apparently very painful to recall. "He and I didn't get along so well," he said simply. "So I left, permanently this time."

"Your bet, Hawke," Varric informed.

Paden held up her hand and shook her head. "I fold."

"Then it's your bet, Junior."

Carver threw his coin into the pot, and then Varric called their hands.

"Do you ever regret leaving the Wardens?" Paden asked, fingering the rim of her mug.

Anders glanced up at her from studying the cards on the table. "Regret it? No, never once. I have a better life here."

"A better life in Kirkwall?" Carver said incredulously. "In Darktown no less."

"I help a lot of people," Anders said. "I feel more useful here than I ever did as a Warden."

Paden smiled. "Can't fault you for that. I've seen the good you do."

"The bet is four bits," Varric announced.

"I fold," Anders said.

"So it's just you and me, Junior," Varric said.

Carver tossed his money onto the table. The last cards were turned over, and Caver groaned. "I hate you, dwarf. You never let anyone else win."

Varric chuckled. "Why would I _let_ you win, Junior? I don't play this game to lose." He gathered the cards and shuffled them a few times.

"Does anyone have a hope of winning around you, Varric?" Anders asked.

"Sure they do. I've been known to lose occasionally."

They went three more rounds of Diamondback, all of which Varric won. Paden stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

"I think I'm going to call it a night, gentlemen," she said.

"But it's still early, Hawke," Varric said as he shuffled cards.

"Maybe so," Paden replied. "But I've had too many late nights this week. I'm beat." She stood up. "Don't you all stop on my account though."

Anders stood up also. "Actually…mind if I walk you home?"

She arched her eyebrows in surprise. "I live just down the street," she said. "A two minute walk at most."

"I'd like to see where you live," Anders said.

"You're both leaving?" Carver said. He smiled. "Great, then you and I can play Wicked Grace, Varric."

Varric laughed. "I _do_ cheat at Wicked Grace, Junior."

"See you tomorrow," Paden said, and then she left the tavern. Anders followed her.

Once they were outside in the moonlight Paden took a deep breath. "I forget how stuffy it can get in there," she said.

"The fresh air does feel good," Anders agreed.

Paden gestured. "I live just down there." They began walking slowly in that direction.

"I want to thank you for inviting me tonight," Anders said.

"I'm glad you came."

"So am I. That dwarf friend of yours is all right. Your brother still hates me though."

"Well, he's not too keen on mages in general," Paden said.

"But you're a mage," Anders said. "Doesn't he feel any sense of loyalty?"

"Of course he does. He'd never turn me in to the Templars, and he'd protect me with his life, I have no doubt of that. But he's loyal to me because I'm family. He resents me for being a mage."

"But you can't help what you were born as," Anders said. "Where did he get this hatred of mages?"

Paden shook her head. "He doesn't hate mages, he just doesn't care about them." She sighed. "My father was a mage, and an apostate, and so was my sister, Carver's twin."

Anders arched his eyebrows in surprise. "That's a lot of apostates under one roof."

Paden chuckled. "You could say that. And to say that my brother felt out numbered is an understatement. Not to mention that Father seemed to favor his mage daughters over his average son. That's where most of the resentment came from I think."

"That's a shame," Anders said. "He could use his understanding of mages to do so much good."

Paden shrugged. "I've had to come to accept how he is. I don't think anything will ever change his mind. He's pretty stubborn." She stopped walking and gestured to the building on her right. "This is where I live," she said.

Anders smiled. "Good to know." Then he turned to face her and bowed slightly. "You have a good night, my friend. If you ever need my help for anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Paden smiled slightly. "I'll keep that in mind," she said.

Anders turned and walked away, and Paden watched him go until he was out of sight around the corner. Then she went inside Gamlen's house and got ready for bed. She crawled under the blankets and laid awake for a good hour, Anders on her mind.

—

**A/N:** A big thank you to all my readers and reviewers!


	15. Remnants of Anders

**A/N:** Here's a nice long one for you guys. :)

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Remnants of Anders**

"Aveline, how are things?" Paden asked as she approached her friend in the guard barracks. It had been a couple days since Aveline had gotten in trouble with Captain Jevan, and Paden wanted to make sure her friend was all right.

Aveline sighed as she stood up from her seat to face Paden. "Slow," she said. "I've been stuck with desk duty for two days."

Paden smiled. "If you're hurting for excitement you're welcome to come with me sometime. You know I always manage to find some."

"That you do," Aveline agreed. "And you know I'm always here when you need me. Some days a bit more than others. Do you have anything exciting in the cards?"

Paden took a piece of folded paper out of her pocket and handed it to Aveline. "Actually, I found this help wanted poster up in Hightown on my way here. There's a man looking for his missing wife. Says he'll pay a reward to anyone who brings her back safely."

Aveline took a look at the poster and nodded. "Yes, Ghyslain de Carrac. I've heard of him. He's tried to get the guard to investigate his wife's disappearance a few times over the last couple weeks."

Paden frowned slightly. "Tried to? Won't the guard take the case?"

Aveline shook her head. "It's been labeled a domestic matter. His wife has every right to leave him if she wants to."

"But what if she didn't just leave him?" Paden asked. "What if she really is missing?"

Aveline shrugged. "I wasn't on that case," she admitted. "But the guards that were reported nothing unusual after speaking with Ghyslain."

"Well, I'm going to go talk to him anyway, see if I can help. There's a reward after all."

"Let me know what you find out," Aveline said.

Just then one of Aveline's fellow guards approached them. A young woman with short blonde hair. "Aveline! I owe you for clearing that ambush the other day. Saved me a mess of trouble."

Aveline looked at her in surprise. "Brennon, that route was yours?"

"It was," Brennon said with a nod. "Single patrol. I would haven't been dead for sure."

"A lone guard isn't much of a patrol," Paden said.

"Shouldn't need to be," Brennon said. "That route was clear for weeks. First noise out of it was your big fight. The captain reassigned me after he heard what you did, and I passed the satchel to Donnic for his patrol tonight."

"The satchel?" Paden asked.

"Pay and order assignments," Brennon explained. "Captain has us run delivery to the outposts during light duty. It's usually just an updated copy of the roster. Satchel for that night was heavy, though. Anyway, thanks again, Aveline. You're a good one." Brennon inclined her head to both of them and then left.

"So the satchel gets heavy the same day we discover an ambush," Aveline said, moving over to the duty roster.

"You're sure you want to pursue this?" Paden asked. "This is your superior we're talking about."

"If a guard has been put at risk, a good captain would want to know why. And if he's not a good captain, _I_ want to know why."

"I bet there's a perfectly reasonable lie that explains why your captain arranged this," Paden said.

"I'd be willing to hear it," Aveline said. "But not while a guard may be walking into a trap." She began searching the duty roster. "Brennon said Donnic. A good man. Donnic…Donnic…I've got his route. A night walk in Lowtown. Let's go make sure his quiet patrol stays that way."

Paden smiled. "So, some action," she said. "Are you asking for my help again?"

"I could use it," Aveline admitted. "You're not doing anything tonight, are you?"

"Nothing planned, no. Mind if I bring someone else along?"

"Carver again?" Aveline asked, her tone none too thrilled.

Paden laughed. "I don't have to bring him if you'd rather I not. But no, he's not who I was thinking of."

"That dwarf then?"

Paden shook her head. "Though, I'm sure he'd love to come. No, actually I met someone else. A healer from Darktown. Anders."

"Anders? That's a man's name, and doesn't sound dwarven."

"You think I'm only capable of befriending dwarven men?" Paden said in mock hurt.

"So he's human then?"

"Yes he's human. He's a mage, actually, and he runs a free clinic in Darktown."

"Commendable," Aveline said. "He's an apostate then I take it?"

"Aveline, don't," Paden warned. "I know how you feel about apostates. I don't want to get into that with you."

"We're friends, Hawke. I don't betray my friends."

"Does that loyalty extend to friends of friends?" Paden asked. "Because if you turn him in I would consider that a betrayal of our friendship."

"Sounds like he's not bothering anyone," Aveline said, somewhat coldly. "If he keeps it that way then he has nothing to fear from me."

Paden eyed her friend warily for a moment. "I don't know whether to thank you or fear you right now," she admitted.

"Thank me," Aveline said. "I'm doing you a favor."

"Thanks," Paden said flatly.

"So, what about it, Hawke? Do I have your help tonight with Donnic's patrol?"

"Yes, of course," Paden said. "I may or may not bring anyone with me."

—

Later that evening Paden went to visit Anders at his clinic.

"Come on, Anders, it'll be fun."

He glanced over his shoulder at her with an arched eyebrow. "Fun? Wandering around Lowtown at night looking for a lone guardsmen is your idea of fun?"

Paden moved to the end of the table where Anders was working so she could see him better. "Well, maybe not fun, but better than staying here all night doing…whatever it is you're doing." She gestured to the bottles and containers and piles of ingredients on the table.

"I'm mixing healing poultices," Anders said. "And I've been behind with it, and finally have a moment to catch up."

Paden leaned her elbows on the table and gave him a mock pout.

He glanced up at her and chuckled. "You're horrible, you know that?" he said.

"Does that mean you'll come with us?"

"And what about my healing poultices?"

Paden sighed and stood up straight. "If you come with me tonight, I'll stay late and help you finish these."

"You have skill in herbalism?" Anders asked in surprise.

Paden shook her head. "No, but something tells me you'd be a good teacher."

Anders sighed and set down his mortar and pestle. "You realize how hard it is for me to say no to you, don't you?"

Paden only grinned and nodded.

Anders sighed again and threw his arms up in defeat. "Fine, I'll go with you. But I'm holding you to that promise of help later."

"On my honor," Paden said. "Come on, let's go. They're waiting for us at the Hanged Man."

"Who is this we're helping again?" Anders asked as they left his clinic.

"Aveline. She's a friend from Lothering. She's a City Guard, and we're helping her rescue a fellow guard from a possible ambush."

"Right, a City Guard. That's just what I need," Anders said. "You know they're almost as bad as the Templars when it comes to apostates?"

"Yes, I know. But don't worry, Aveline's assured me that your secret is safe with her."

"And why would she do that?"

"She's my friend," Paden said. "She's kept my secret. I trust her."

Anders gave her a sideways glance. "Well, I trust you," he said.

Paden gave him an appreciative smile, and then they fell silent as they climbed the stairs up into Lowtown. As they drew close to the Hanged Man they could see Aveline and Varric standing outside waiting for them.

"There you are," Aveline said. "We've been waiting."

"Good on you, Aveline. But we're here now. This is Anders, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Aveline said, and then turned to Paden. "We can't waste time, Hawke, Donnic is around here somewhere; we have to find him."

"Right, onward then," Paden said, gesturing for Aveline to lead the way.

They wandered the streets, following Donnic's posted route, hoping they weren't too far behind him to offer aid if need be.

"Aveline, do you have any idea where this ambush might take place?" Paden asked.

Aveline shook her head. "Any place here in Lowtown's as good as any other. We just have to keep a sharp eye. Chances are it'll be in or near a blind alley, though."

"And Lowtown has a lot of those," Anders said.

After a few more minutes of searching, Varric said, "So you're sure this friend of yours is even out here?"

Aveline sighed in irritation. "We haven't covered the entire district yet. But we should be getting close, there aren't a lot of streets left."

"Wait, do you hear that?" Anders asked. They all stopped to listen, and could hear the faint sounds of weapons clashing.

"That's it," Aveline said, and began running toward the sound as she drew her sword. The others followed her, drawing their own weapons.

They came around the corner of a building to find a gang of men attacking a lone guardsman. There were several bodies strewn about, so it was obvious the guard had stood his ground, but just as Paden and the others came upon the scene, the guard was struck down and the attackers began closing in to finish him off.

"Not today!" Aveline called as she rushed into the fray.

Paden stood back at the entrance to the alley with Anders, and they both used offensive spells against the bandits, while Varric picked them off one by one with Bianca.

Then a second wave of bandits came up behind Paden and Anders. Out of habit Paden rushed forward to get out of their reach, then turned around to cast a spell from a safe distance. Anders was still where she left him though, fighting the two bandits with his staff, which was more like a weapon than anything, with a pretty decent blade on one end of it. And the way he wielded it showed that he had considerable skill in weapons combat. He combined that with a couple spells, and in moments the two men were on the ground not moving. Paden was impressed.

Aveline finished off the last bandit, and no more came rushing out. She sheathed her sword and hurried over to the fallen guardsman. He was injured in some way, but not mortally so. Aveline helped him to his feet.

"Who?" He mumbled, a bit disoriented. Then he recognized his rescuer. "Av…Aveline?" He sighed with relief. "You're a beautiful sight."

Aveline smiled, obviously flattered. "Guardsman."

Donnic arched his eyebrows, only just realizing how he must have come across. "I mean…I was on patrol, and they came out of nowhere."

Aveline turned away from him, and Paden could see a red blush on her cheeks.

"I took a few down," Donnic continued. "But there were too many at once. The captain said this route was supposed to be quiet."

Paden noticed a satchel laying on the ground. She crouched down to take a look at its contents.

"The seal of the Viscount," Anders said, looking over her shoulder. "Office details, city accounts."

"Valuable to a guild of thieves," Paden said.

"A sacrificial delivery with one of our own," Aveline said, clenching her fists. "Captain Jevan _will_ answer."

Paden looked up at her. "Exposing this kind of corruption could make the guards look weak."

"Then we look weak," Aveline said. "The others deserve better. This goes to the office of the Viscount. This will be known. The captain likes his thieves so much, let's see if they welcome him in prison."

Paden stood up and handed the satchel to Aveline, then she looked at Donnic. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"Are you sure? If you're injured, Anders here is a healer."

Donnic shook his head. "I'll make it back to the barracks," he said. "Thank you for your help."

"I'll help him back," Aveline said. "Thank you, Hawke."

"Any time, Aveline," Paden said. "Let me know how that goes with the Viscount."

Aveline left with Donnic, leaving the others in the alley.

"Well, I don't know about you two," Varric said. "But all that fighting's made me thirsty. What do you say we head to the Hanged Man to remedy that?"

Paden looked at Anders. "Actually, Varric, tonight I've got something else to do."

Varric arched one eyebrow at her. "Something else? What? You got more bad guys to kill? Don't you ever rest?"

"No, no more bad guys for this evening," Paden assured. "I promised Anders I would help him with something."

Varric eyed her suspiciously. "Oh, I get it," he said with a nod. "You're going to _help_ him with something. Sure."

Paden laughed. "What? I am."

"Uh-huh," Varric said. "You two have fun then."

"Oh, Varric. Anders, tell him."

Anders chuckled. "Tell him what?"

"That I'm helping you make healing poultices, not…doing whatever it is he thinks we're doing."

Varric spread his hands and grinned in mock innocence. "What do you think I think you're going to do?" he said.

"Oh, never mind," Paden said in frustration. "Come on, Anders, the night isn't getting any younger."

Anders chuckled in amusement as he followed her to the entrance to Darktown. "You get riled easily," he remarked.

Paden let out a breath and willed herself to relax. "Yes, I am very aware of that curse on my life," she said. "My father used to say it's because of my hair. He said red hair sets people on fire."

"An interesting explanation," Anders said. "But it does seem like red-haired individuals have more fiery personalities than others. So maybe that's true."

"It was a lot worse when I was younger," Paden admitted. "I've been working to temper it the last few years." She laughed. "I used to sit on my brother and pound him with my fists to settle an argument, now I just give him a friendly jolt with lightening."

Anders chuckled and nodded. "Shooting lightening at fools. One of my personal favorites. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

They arrived at the clinic, and Anders pulled a second chair over to the table that served as his apothecary, and gestured for Paden to take a seat.

"So, how does one make a healing poultice anyway?" she said as she sat down.

"Well, I'll show you," Anders said as he took off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. He sat down across from her and began gathering ingredients, setting them in front of her. "You know what, I think I'll write down the amounts of each of these for your reference." He took a stubby sick of charcoal out of his pocket and began to scribble on a small scrap of paper.

Paden watched him, noticing how a few strands of his blond hair had escaped the tie at the back of his head, and were falling across his forehead, tickling his eyebrow. He blew a puff of hair up at the offending strand, but when that didn't work he smoothed it behind his ears with his fingers.

Paden smiled slightly feeling like she could sit just like that forever. She so enjoyed being in his company. Even while doing such a mundane thing as this. Did he feel even remotely the same way about her? She was too afraid to ask him after the way he shut her down before, so she kept her wonderings to herself.

Anders finished scribbling and slid the paper across the table. "Mash all these ingredients together in this," he said, and set a mortar and pestle in front of her.

Paden reviewed the list and nodded. "Looks easy enough," she said. "I have to admit, I never bothered to learn any of the healing arts. Until recently anyway."

"It's not an easy skill to master," Anders said. "I've met very few mages who are healers. What recently piqued your interest?"

"Not long ago, my brother was almost killed by a malificar," Paden said as she carefully measured a brownish powder. "I wished I had healing skills then. I learned a basic revival technique from my father's grimoire and was able to save Carver. But it made me see that in our line of work we can't be too careful."

"I could teach you a few healing spells if you'd like," Anders offered. "You're right, being prepared is better than being dead. Dead is bad, as I always say."

"Thank you," Paden said, looking up at him with a grateful smile. "I'll probably take you up on that."

They each measured ingredients in silence for a moment.

"So, you're from Lothering," Anders said eventually.

Paden nodded. "I grew up there."

"You were lucky to escape," Anders said.

Paden shook her head, forcing her expression to remain unchanged. "We didn't all escape. We lost my sister. She was killed by an ogre."

"I'm sorry," Anders said softly. "How old was she?"

"Just eighteen," Paden said, clenching her teeth as the dagger of grief twisted a little bit. She changed the subject quickly. "Do you have any family?"

Anders shrugged. "Not any I know of. My parents shipped me off to the Circle in handcuffs when I was twelve. I never saw them again."

Paden looked at him in shock. "Why would they do that?"

"My father was afraid of me," Anders said with a shrug. "I accidentally burned down our barn with magic. So, off to the Circle I went." He chuckled bitterly. "You are very fortunate that your parents loved you enough to keep you away from that prison. Most mage children aren't so lucky."

Paden looked at him for a moment. He seemed to make light of something that was obviously very painful for him. A coping mechanism? Most likely. Sometimes it was easier to pretend it didn't matter as much as it did. Paden knew all about that.

"My father was a Circle mage," she said. "He escaped to marry my mother. He never wanted his daughters to have the life he ran from."

"Your father was a good man," Anders said.

"He was the best," Paden agreed. "He never talked about his life in the Circle though. I don't know why."

"They couldn't have been happy memories for him," Anders said bitterly. "They surely weren't for me."

"How did you escape the Circle?" Paden asked.

Anders sputtered a laugh and sighed dramatically. "Oh, let me count the ways."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paden asked, amused.

"It means I've escaped the Circle so many times, you'd have to count them all on two hands."

"Seriously? You were recaptured that many times? The Circle in Ferelden must be a lot more lenient than the one here in Kirkwall. Here they would have just executed you."

"That's what they say." He shook his head. "But seriously, they couldn't keep me. I never understood why I had to be forced to live in a prison simply because I was born. Andraste's words were that magic must not rule over man. It is not ruling to simply wish for the same rights as any man. Doesn't every mage deserve the freedom you've had?"

"Yes," Paden said. "But…was it really that bad in the Circle?" She hopped she wasn't overstepping her bounds. This was obviously a sensitive topic for him, and his ability to keep it lighthearted was slipping, she could see that.

"You have no idea," Anders said, the timbre of his voice changing slightly, becoming deeper with whatever emotion the conversation was stirring in him. "In the Circle it's all about rules and regulations and the Templars. You're watched, day and night. They read your mail and your diaries to make sure you're not plotting against them. You have to keep everything secret, even your affections for other mages, because if the Templars found out, they could use your feelings against you, exploit your weakness. The children there grow up knowing nothing about the outside world. I knew mages my age who had never set food on a blade of grass, or felt the rain on their skin. And then, if they suspect that you might be a malificar, they execute you, or worse, make you tranquil. And you have no rights, no advocates, no chance for salvation."

He clenched his fists and then rested his head in his hands. "It's hard to believe that Karl is dead," he said softly. "And at my hand."

Paden nodded. She had wondered how he had been doing in regards to Karl. He hadn't mentioned his friend since that night, and seemed to have put it behind him. But the oposite was obviously true.

Suddenly he slammed his hands down on the table, causing Paden to jump. "Damn the Templars! I should have come to Kirkwall sooner."

Paden stared at him, her heart pounding as she carefully set her mortar and pestle down, not taking her eyes off Anders. He was quite agitated by now, and could no longer sit still. He stood up, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry," Paden said with growing unease. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It isn't you," Anders said through clenched teeth, pacing slightly. "It's the bloody Templars! You know how it is. They don't see us as people. They don't care that Karl was someone's son…someone's friend. If you're born with magic, they hear about it. They search your little rat-spit village and find you. They tell your parents they'll be thrown in prison if they ever ask about you, stripped of their rights in the eyes of the Maker."

Suddenly a familiar blue-white light flashed in Anders' eyes, and seeped out of him as though through cracks in his skin.

"And if you run away," he said, voice straining for control. "They hunt you down, again, and again, and again."

Paden stood up slowly, taking a step back from the table. Anders' eyes returned to normal a second later, and he seemed unaware of what just happened.

"Your…eyes were glowing again," she said hesitantly.

He looked at her with such a sorrowful expression it nearly broke her heart. "And since yours is the only head here, and I don't want to rip it off, I should stop," He said, and rubbed his forehead. "Yes. Sorry," he added softly.

Paden hesitated a moment, not sure what she should do or say now. His little rant seemed to be over, but she still kept the table between them anyway for the time being. How could she redeem this moment? Was it even possible?

"Could we just…go back to friendly chatter while mixing herbs?" she asked hopefully.

"I wish it were that easy," Anders said, his voice filled with regret. "But this…voice inside me, this drive for justice… When I think about the Templars, it's unbearable."

Paden wished she could help him, but this was all strange territory for her. She had no idea what to do or say to make it better. Chances are she would only make it worse.

"This is what I warned you about," Anders said softly, staring down at the floor. "This is who I am." He sighed. "I think… it's time for you to go. I need to be alone." He turned away from her and went over to a chair that sat facing the fire pit in the far corner. He sat down and buried his face in his hands.

Paden watched him for a moment, and then went to the door. She turned around to look at him one last time, feeling her heart breaking. But not because of anything he did or said, but because of how she felt for him and was unable to help him. As she walked home she wondered what Anders must have been like before Justice influenced his personality. What sort of person was he? Even now he seemed to have a strong affinity for the downtrodden and helpless. Was that part of who he was, or was that Justice as well? He said that no one can tell where he ended and Justice began, but Paden wasn't so sure that was true. In the short time she had known him she'd seen two very different sides of him. There was this…almost remnant, if you will, of a lighthearted, caring side that tried desperately to show itself, to break free of its oppression from Justice.

Paden wanted to get to know _that_ Anders, to draw out _that_ part of him as much as she could. To help _Anders_ become the more dominate personality, if that were even possible. Somehow there must be a way for him to master the spirit within. Maybe all he needed was someone who cared about him enough to help him.

—

Anders sighed as he glanced over his shoulder at Paden disappearing through his door. Would he ever see her again? He wouldn't blame her if she never came back, in fact, he expected she never would. He was a monster, dangerous and unpredictable. He had warned her, and now she had been the brunt of it herself. She would be wise never to return.

Instead of making him feel better, that rationale only made him feel worse. It was his fault she had left. His fault they were no longer happily chatting while making poultices. His fault he would likely never see her again.

Did he want to see her again?

Yes he did. He could admit that to himself without hesitation. There was something about her that drew him.

_ Like a moth to the flame_.

He snorted at that analogy. No, not a moth to a flame, a hummingbird to a flower, a kitten to sweet milk…

_She's a distraction_.

He had to agree with that one. Since he met her four days ago—yes he had counted them—he couldn't stop thinking about her. With everything else going on in his life, everything else demanding his attention, she somehow managed to twine herself around every thought he had. Throughout the day he would catch himself wondering what she was she doing. Those green eyes of hers would dance before his vision, the memory of them as clear as any real moment. The compassion he saw in them disarmed him. Knowing what he was, knowing what he had done, what he was capable of doing…none of it seemed to matter to her. When she looked at him there was no judgement in her gaze, no disgust, no anger. None of the emotions he was used to seeing in the eyes of those who knew.

But he _had_ seen fear in her eyes, and the knowledge that he was the reason for it twisted his gut.

_You did warn her._

Yes, he had. So did that mean he was justified to frighten her, to hurt her with his words and actions, because he had warned her in advance? No! She didn't deserve that from him. She deserved gratitude, a smile, a hug. She deserved flowers…

_Stop it!_

She deserved compliments and praises. She deserved all her dreams coming true and all her fears and worries banished.

_Stop it! Those are not your responsibilities. _

He shook his head as he stared into the fire. No, perhaps they weren't, but he sure wanted them to be. She was what his lonely heart had been searching for for so long. He knew that the moment he saw her walk into his clinic. He had known it so definitely that he had not been able to keep it from his voice or his words, and he had shown his feelings to her prematurely, only to turn around and crush her obvious hope. The look of disappointment in her eyes had nearly made him take it back.

_It was for the best. Better to stop it before it could even begin than to drag it out unnecessarily._

That was probably true, but it did not make him feel better about it.

Abruptly a memory from Amaranthine dashed to the surface. A comment he had made to the Warden Commander.

_"All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal and the right to shoot lightening at fools."_

She had agreed that that wasn't an unreasonable dream. And even though he had veiled the comment in witty sarcasm, he had meant every word from the bottom of his heart. All he had ever wanted was the freedom to live his life in peace. A life of happiness and plenty, and a woman at his side to share it with.

But what did he have? Life as a fugitive, always looking over his shoulder for the Templars or the Wardens that would inevitably come and drag him back. An empty stomach that rarely knew what if felt like to be full, as every coin he received as a donation went directly to the needs of his clinic and his patients. An overwhelming sense of loneliness that left him near despair more and more often lately. Many a night he would fall asleep against a wet pillow, and then wake with no desire to rise.

_You are fighting for those rights. You are fighting so that one day those dreams can come true._

Yes, he was. But was he fighting for himself or on behalf of others? As selfish and self-centered he had been his whole life, the big decisions, the ones that really mattered, had always come down to how they affected others. He could not bear to hurt people, to see them hurt or suffering. That's why he had become a healer, so he could try in some small way to heal the hurts he saw in the world. Was he fighting for the freedom of mages so that he could prosper from the outcome?

No. If he was doing this for himself then he would not be doing it at all. He was doing it for them. For every other young man out there that had the same dreams as he. He knew he would not live to see those dreams come true for himself. He knew that with a certainty that pierced his heart.

But to be happy…for a little while…

He drew a ragged breath and dragged his fingers under his eyes to catch the moisture that had unwittingly collected there.

Happiness had eluded him most of his life. He had found little moments here and there, but a true, deeply fulfilling happiness had forever remained a spectral idea, like a mirage on the horizon; unapproachable and unattainable.

Seeing her for the first time had allowed him to finally grasp a small thread of that happiness, and he was reluctant and more than a little stubborn about letting it go.

_She is a distraction._

Again he could not argue with that. But oh, what a wonderful distraction she was.

—

**A/N:** Once again, thank you to all my readers and reviewers. You guys are the best.


	16. Work and Doldrums

**A/N:** Another chapter with some canon material, and some original material as well. Hope you enjoy.

**Act One**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Work and Doldrums**

Paden didn't feel in the mood to do much the next day. She spent some time studying her father's grimoire, wandered around the market, and stopped herself at least four times from heading to Anders' clinic. He had asked her leave, and she had no business returning until he invited her to do so. Chances were he never would, and she had to accept that.

Paden came back from her second stroll through the market as the sun was just going down. She moped about the house for a while, wishing she had her own room where she could go to be alone.

"Paden, are you all right?" Leandra asked her.

Paden looked up at her mother. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I don't know. That's why I'm asking. You've not been yourself today. Is anything wrong?"

Paden shrugged and shook her head. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm fine." She gave her mother a smile and then went into the bedroom.

Leandra watched her daughter go, and then looked at Carver who was reading a book in a chair by the fire. "Carver, do you know what's bothering your sister?"

Carver looked up. "What? Bothering her?" He shrugged one shoulder. "I imagine any number of things."

"She's been acting strangely today," Leandra said. "Preoccupied and…broken hearted almost."

"Well, it may have something to do with that mage," Carver suggested.

"Mage?" Leandra asked. "What mage?"

"Oh, she didn't tell you about him?"

"Him? Who are you talking about, Carver?"

"We met this mage the other day. I think Paden's a bit smitten with him."

Leandra looked at the closed bedroom door. "She never said anything about a man in her life."

All Carver could offer was another shrug as he returned his attention to his book.

Leandra went to the bedroom door and knocked lightly. "Paden? May I come in?"

"It's your room, too, Mother," Paden answered.

Leandra came in. Paden was reclining on her middle bunk, once again reading her father's grimoire. Leandra sat in the chair at the desk. "Carver told me you met a man the other day," she said.

Paden looked up at her mother, her eyes narrowing. "So?"

"He said the man is a mage, and that you're…"

Paden waited. "I'm…?"

"Well, 'smitten with him' is the phrase he used."

Paden sighed and flopped onto her back, staring up at the bunk above her. "Why would he tell you that?"

"Is it true?" Leandra asked. "Because it would sure explain why you've been behaving so strangely lately."

How could Paden tell her mother everything about Anders? If her mother knew all the details she'd probably forbid her from ever seeing Anders again. "There's nothing going on between us," she finally said. "We're just friends, and barely so—I've only just met him."

"Then why have you been so broody lately? Your mind's been somewhere else."

Paden shook her head and shrugged. She did not want to talk about this with her mother right now.

"Paden, you have me worried," Leandra said.

Paden sighed and looked at her mother. "The man I met…Anders. He's…going through some hard things. He just lost a dear friend and he has…other issues. I was trying to help him. That's all. There's nothing going on between us, I promise."

"You make it sound like it would be a bad thing if there was," Leandra pointed out.

"Well…he's an apostate," she said.

"So are you. So was Father."

"So…are you saying you never regretted marrying an apostate, spending your whole life running and hiding when you could have had it so much better?"

Leandra smiled. "Easier maybe, dear. Not better. I loved your father more than anything in life. What was life without him in it? I gladly traded all the finery and coin and status for the years I had with him, even though they were hard and not always what I had dreamed my married life would be like. But I wouldn't trade a moment of it. Not one."

Paden smiled warmly at her mother, very glad to hear her say that.

"And so, if you want to spend your life with a man like Father, all I can do is be happy for you, even if I might worry for you. But it is your life, love. You choose how to live it, as fully as you possibly can."

Paden rolled onto her side and looked at her mother for a moment. "You're the best, Mother. Have I ever told you that?"

Leandra smiled. "Yes, but I never tire of hearing it." She stood up and walked closer to the bed so she could look into her daughter's eyes. "So there is no future with this man then?"

Paden shook her head. "It's not like that. We're just friends."

Leandra nodded, looking a little disappointed. "All right. Well, I hope he is able to work out his problems."

"Me, too," Paden said.

—

The next day Paden made a conscious decision to put Anders out of her mind, and she nearly succeeded. Mostly by focusing on other things that actually needed to be done.

She and Carver went up to Hightown, to the address on the help wanted poster Paden had picked up. Ghyslain de Carrac answered the door on Paden's second knock.

"Yes? can I help you?" he asked, his accent thickly Orlesian.

Paden held up the creased and crumpled poster. "This says you need help tracking down your wife. Are you still hiring?"

Ghyslain's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then he seemed to deflate with relief. "If you can find Ninette, yes, I will gladly pay you," he said.

"Can you give me any details?" Paden asked. "How long has your wife been missing?"

He considered that for a moment. "About a month. I wasn't worried at first; she's run off before. Ninette is uncontrollable, you see. She comes and goes as she pleases."

"So she left under her own free will then?" Paden said. "You don't think it was foul play?"

Ghyslain shrugged. "I don't know, but if so then it is her own doing, gallivanting about with men half her age." He threw his arms in the air. "That foolish woman has caused me nothing but embarrassment. She needs to be dragged home. Her family is getting suspicious. They think I might have…done something to her. Even if… well, I just want to make sure they know I didn't do it."

Paden arched an eyebrow at him. "Why would her family think you did something to her?"

"They think I married her for her inheritance," Ghyslain said. "And they know we have been fighting. They believe this is reason enough for me to hurt her." He shook his head and gestured emphatically. "But I swear, on Andraste's pyre, I've done nothing."

"You're more concerned with what her family thinks than what happened to her?" Paden said in disgusted surprise. "No wonder she left you."

Ghyslain furrowed his eyebrows and adopted a defensive tone. "Ninette keeps the company of other men, and makes no secret of it. I'd be better off with her gone." He sighed. "Well, as long as her family knows I had nothing to do with it. They would ruin me otherwise."

"So these other men your wife's been seeing, do you know who they are?" Paden asked.

"Jethann, at the Blooming Rose," Ghyslain said, clenching his fists. "I didn't know she visited whores, until Jethann sent a letter, to our house! He even sent her flowers once! Lilies…her favorite." He threw up his hands in frustration again. "Talking about it makes my head hurt."

"Any other leads you can give me?" Paden asked.

Ghyslain shook his head sadly. "No, that's all I know. Will you help me?"

"I'll do my best," Paden assured. "I can't promise I'll bring her home, especially if she won't return with me. I'll try to at least find out what happened to her."

"Thank you, serah," Ghyslain said. "Please, let me know as soon as you find anything. Maker guide your search."

Paden and Carver left with what little leads Ghyslain was able to give them. "So, a whorehouse," Carver said. "Maybe she's taken up residence there."

"If so that will be the easiest reward we've ever claimed," Paden said. "One can always hope." She gestured down the street. "Let's go head on over there; I want to keep busy and get this investigation going as quickly as possible."

Carver eyed her as they walked. "I haven't seen you with that mage in a couple days," he commented.

Paden sighed. Just when she had finally gotten Anders out of her mind. "Is there some reason why we have to see each other every day?" she asked mildly.

"No, no reason. Other than I thought you and he…I don't know… had something going on."

"I don't know whatever gave you that idea," Paden said. "There's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

Paden let out a breath of exasperation. "Oh wait, I forgot, there is something going on. Silly me for forgetting."

"All right, I get the hint," Carver said, holding up his hands. "Don't want to talk about it. No problem."

"There's nothing to talk about," Paden said. "I wish everyone would just leave me alone about it."

"Fine," Carver said, and he dropped the subject.

They were silent for the rest of the walk to the brothel. They knew exactly where it was because Athenril kept her makeshift office just across the street. Paden had walked past the strings of red lanterns that hung above the door to the Blooming Rose many times, but she had never gone inside. She was not looking forward to it now.

When they walked in, their senses were met with an assault of perfumes and languid guitar music. Paden had to stop just inside the door to catch her balance, as it nearly knocked her backward. She put a hand over her nose and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Suddenly the idea of being surrounded by prostitutes is no longer the worst part about coming here," she said, her voice muffled by her hand.

"Let's just hurry and find this Jethann," Carver said, looking uncomfortable. Paden couldn't tell if he was uncomfortable for the same reasons she was, but she didn't comment.

They went into the main lounge, which was strangely busy for an early afternoon. A large bar dominated the right side of the expansive room, and tables and couches were arranged throughout the rest of it, on which male and female prostitutes lounged, sharing drinks and conversation with patrons. Carver pretended not to look at them.

Paden asked a girl where she might find Jethann, and was directed to a room at the top of a wide staircase. She knocked on the door, and an elf with light red hair answered. He looked Paden up and down as if she were a mare he was considering for purchase.

"Today's my rest day," he said. "But, I'll make an exception for you." He gave Paden a knowing smile. "What can I say? Why work if you're not working_ hard_?"

Carver rolled his eyes and shuffled uncomfortably. Paden's annoyance and disgust curdled her insides. She was not anywhere near the mood for crude jokes. She got right down to business.

"I'm looking for Ninette. Have you seen her lately?"

"Ninette? Not for several weeks. Which is a shame; I enjoyed her company. I hear she finally left her worthless husband. Good for her. I just wish she'd said good bye."

"Did she tell you she left her husband?" Paden asked.

"No," the elf admitted. "I just hope that's what she did. Ghyslain only wants her for her family's wealth. Ninette's a jewel. Elegant, worldly, just the perfect level of depraved. Ghyslain doesn't deserve her."

"Ghyslain knew about you and Ninette," Paden said. "Did he talk to you?"

"The man is incapable of talking," Jethann said. "He came here, yelled at me, called me a dirty knife-ear, among other things. And accused me of corrupting his wife. We had him thrown out."

Paden mounted a supreme effort to keep her tone of voice neutral. This elf wasn't helping them at all. They weren't learning anything that Ghyslain hadn't already told them. Nothing helpful at least. She forced back her feelings of frustration; it wasn't Jethann's fault Ninette didn't tell him where she was going. "Do you think Ninette has come to harm?" she asked.

"I hope not!" the elf exclaimed, as if he had never considered that before. "Everyone loves Ninette. Sometimes twice a night." He chuckled. "Ghyslain's the only one who might hurt her."

"So you don't actually know anything," Paden said, not amused.

"What made you think I would?" the elf asked. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Anyway, there was someone else looking for Ninette—a Templar. I believe his name was Emeric. I can't see why a Templar would be interested in anyone who isn't a mage."

Paden had to agree with him on that one. "Any chance Ninette's an apostate?" she asked.

"Well, she certainly cast a spell on me," Jethann said, and chuckled. When Paden only stared blankly at him he shook his head. "Anyway, if Ninette was a mage I think Emeric would have said so."

"Perhaps Emeric knows something we don't," Paden said, glad they finally got at least one more small lead. But why did it have to be a Templar?

"Emeric said he'd continue his investigation in Darktown," Jethann said. "You could see if he's still there. And if you find Ninette, tell her to drop by and see me sometime."

Paden thanked the elf, and then she and Carver left the brothel as quickly as they could. Once they were standing out on the street again Paden took a deep breath of the fresh air and let it out slowly.

"I was about to faint in there," she said. "What in Thedas was smoking in those incense burners in the lounge?"

"I don't know," Carver said. "But I think I might be sick for the rest of the day."

"Well, at least we have some sort of lead to follow," Paden said.

"Yeah, some lead. Are we really going to go chasing after a Templar?"

"What choice do we have?" Paden asked. "It's either that or we drop the case. And if we drop the case we won't get paid."

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Carver said.

"There are more than just mages in Darktown who would jump at the chance to rid the world of a single Templar. He's outnumbered down there. And if he's smart he'll realize that. I think we'll be all right."

Carver pointed his finger at her. "If you're wrong…"

Paden rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said, motioning for him to follow her, halting the argument before it could turn into something ugly. But as she began walking, she noticed a familiar face across the street. "Hey, Athenril's in her office," she said, pointing.

"So what?" Carver said.

Paden ignored him and crossed the street to the elf. For some reason Athenril looked surprised to see her, despite having sent Paden a letter offering work.

"Huh," the elf said. "Well, I just lost a sovereign. Didn't think you'd stoop to our kind again."

Carver glared at his sister. "Neither did I."

Paden continued to ignore him. "You sent me a letter," she stated flatly, not willing to discuss her motivations with the likes of Athenril. "You said you could use my help."

The elf eyed Paden for a moment, as if contemplating her sincerity. "Since you stormed off, we don't have anyone who can quite work your magic," she said. "If you know what I mean. I sent some men to fence a bit of cargo down at the docks. Haven't seen 'em since. I'd pay good silver for the safe return of them, or the goods."

"Is this anyone I know?" Paden asked.

"When you left, I had to take on new Fereldan…volunteers. Lad named Pryce is leading them. No one of your caliber."

"That it?" Paden asked. "Just find your men and goods? Couldn't you send anyone to do that? Why do you need me?"

Athenril hesitated slightly. "We were trying to make a deal with the Carta, those Orzammar dwarves," she said.

Paden let out a short breath and glanced away in irritation. The Carta was one of the oldest and largest crime syndicates in all of Thedas, their influence reaching from the depths of Orzammar to the wind-whipped streets of Kirkwall, and every place in between. They were ruthless, not to be trusted or taken lightly. Often those who got caught up in their affairs ended up dead."

"The Carta? Really, Athenril?"

"It was supposed to be easy and clean," the elf insisted.

"What are the goods?" Paden demanded.

"They like luxury items; fine fabrics, a cask of caviar, an aged wine. Anything one can…liberate from a Hightown merchant."

Paden narrowed her eyes at the elf.

"Disbelieve me if you wish, I swear this was a clean deal. All I want is my goods returned, and my men if possible. You're one of the few I know who have dealt with the Carta successfully in the past, that's why I called on you. Take it or leave it, Hawke."

Paden deliberately didn't look at her brother, but she could feel the glare of his eyes on her nonetheless as she stepped forward and held out her hand to the elf. "I'll take it," she said simply, a knot twisting in her stomach.

Athenril smiled slightly and shook Paden's hand. "Good. Go to the docks tonight. My boy Pryce was supposed to meet our buyers from the Carta there. Maybe you can find out what happened."

Paden nodded and then left without another word, walking briskly down the street. Carver had to hurry to catch up with her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "You just took a job from Athenril, are you crazy?"

"Oh, excuse me," Paden said. "I thought we needed the work. Or did you not hear the part about 'good silver'?"

"That was Athenril," Carver said.

Paden shook her head. "Really, Carver, your powers of observation are astounding."

"I thought you hated her. You spent the last year complaining left and right about how we had to work for her, and now you want to _keep_ working for her?"

"We're being _paid_ this time, Carver. How is it so hard to see the difference?"

"I just thought you had a little more self respect than that," Carver said.

Paden stopped and whirled on her brother. "What do you want me to do, Carver?" she bit out. "We're broke. We need to make fifty gold as fast as possible, and so far we've made nothing really—not any more than what pays the bills anyway. If I have to swallow my pride for a day in order to do that then I will. You can go suck an egg."

Carver glared at her, his blue eyes turning nearly purple in his ire. "Fine," he said, and spun around and stormed off, leaving Paden standing in the middle of the street.

Paden watched him go, forcing herself to remain angry in order to not break down in tears. She turned the other way and began walking as fast as she could, the soft soles of her boots thudding on the stone street, echoing the thrumming of her heart loud in her ears. What was her brother's problem? Couldn't he see they didn't really have a choice? Athenril was the last person Paden wanted to work for, but they didn't have a lot of other options at the moment. Why was he so mad at her for wanting to take Athenril's coin?

She shook her head in confusion as she took the stairs down to the docks. She went to her usual spot at the end of an empty pier, and sat down, dangling her feet over the edge. She watched little waves lap against the side of a moored boat and listened to the sounds of the gulls calling. Coming here always calmed her down when she was upset. Though, usually she didn't have so much to be upset about at once.

Paden scooted back against a large shipping crate and pulled her knees up to her chest. She rested her arms on her knees and buried her face from the world as tears poured from her eyes. She couldn't even remember the last time she cried—really cried, with sobs and everything. She always preferred clenching her fists, shouting or running as an alternative way of dealing with strong emotions. Crying was a show of weakness, and Paden couldn't afford to be weak in her line of work.

But in that moment, crying was the only thing that made sense—as long as no one saw her doing it.

Why did life have to be so hard? Why couldn't they have come to Kirkwall and moved straight into the family estate and had all their needs met from day one? Hadn't they already gone through enough; losing their home in Lothering, running for their lives, losing Bethany, and then that horrible voyage across the sea? That had all happened over a year ago, and they were still barely surviving. Would this season of their lives ever come to a close? Would they ever be happy again? That idea was hard to fathom. They weren't a complete family anymore. They never would be again. Paden's father had died a few years before the Blight, and even though they were more used his his absence, Paden still missed him terribly. And now Bethany, too, her sister and best friend. Even a year later Paden still caught herself looking for Bethany, or almost going to find her to tell her something that was on her mind. And then she had to remind herself that Bethany was gone, and nothing could ever stop the melancholy mood that would always follow.

Paden sat against that crate with her face buried in her arms for a long time, probably close to an hour if the lowering of the tide was any indication. But she didn't care. Let the world pass her by and leave her behind if it wanted to. She would gladly watch it fade away into the distance.

"Hawke?"

She startled at the sound of her name being spoken so close by. She looked up, blinking in the sunlight. "Anders?" she said in surprise. There he was, standing there looking down at her, his eyebrows knit with concern. She hurriedly wiped her eyes and stood up. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he said. "I went to your house, and your brother said you might be down here." His brow furrowed again as he looked closely at her face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "What did you need me for?"

Anders let out a tense breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just…came to apologize for my behavior the other night," he said. "I'm sure I made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry."

Paden shook her head. "No need to apologize," she said. "I understand you have no control over it."

"But that's no excuse," Anders insisted. "I treated you badly, and I should have known better. I am no stranger to what happens to me when I talk about certain things. I should have avoided those topics, to avoid hurting you."

Paden sat down on the edge of the crate and stared at her hands as she folded them on her lap. "Truth be told, I thought that would be the last time I would ever see you," she admitted. "I thought maybe you'd not want to see me again."

Anders shook his head and then sat down next to her, their elbows touching. "It wasn't you, Hawke," he said softly. "It was Justice. And…I don't want Justice to come between us. We'll just…have to avoid talking about certain topics." He smiled slightly. "That is…if you still want to be friends."

She turned her head to look at him briefly. "I do. I really, really do. And there are a lot of other things to talk about besides Templars and the Circle."

Anders blew a laugh through his nose and nodded. "Agreed."

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, watching a gull dip and dive over the waves. After a moment Paden realized that she felt very content sitting there beside Anders, even in the extended silence. There was no awkwardness. It was as if they had done this a hundred times before over a long friendship. She smiled slightly at the thought.

Finally Anders looked at her again. "So, what are you doing down here anyway? Your brother made it sound like you come here often."

Paden nodded. "I come here now and then to think. This place has a way of soothing my soul."

"In what way?"

"Whenever I'm feeling particularly down or ungrateful about my family's situation, I come here and watch the ships in the harbor. They remind me of our escape from Lothering, and the voyage here, how horrific and miserable it was. Remembering that always managed to make me feel grateful for what I have now."

Anders studied her for a moment. "But it's no longer working?" he observed.

Paden sighed and shook her head.

"What's wrong, Paden?" Anders asked gently. The sound of her given name on his lips made her heart flutter. Anders waited, and when she said nothing, he added, "I…I noticed you've been crying. Is there anything I can do?"

Blast it all, he could tell she'd been crying? That's the last thing she wanted. But it was too late now. She shook her head, refusing to meet his gaze. She knew if she did, her resolve would crack and that would be the end of her control. If anyone else had said those words to her in the state she was in now she would have bit their head off. But somehow Anders had the oposite affect on her. After a few softly spoken words from him she was willing to spill every hurt and cry every tear in a puddle at his feet. And that thought alone scared her more than any Carta crime-lord or Templar knight.

"You know," Anders said. "A few days ago you told me that I could tell you anything. I would like to give you that same offer. Or…are you better at giving than receiving?"

Paden snorted. Did he already know her so well? "Yeah, I've never been one to spill my heart all over someone else."

"Well, I'm offering my shoulder," Anders said. "Take it as you will." And with those words the tension seemed to drain away. He was expecting nothing from her, and she was free to back away into her safe zone.

Once finally mastered, she glanced up at him and gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you," she said. But she was done crying for that day. She wouldn't cry again for a long while—especially not in front of someone else, even Anders. But she was grateful that he wanted to be there for her. That made her feel very good.

After a moment she took the opportunity to change the subject. "I have a job tonight, here at the docks actually. It's with the Carta, so there's a chance it could get ugly."

"Let me guess, you want me to come with you?" Anders said with that lopsided smile of his.

"Do you mind?" Paden asked.

Anders shook his head. "Not at all. Actually, I've been enjoying our little nighttime jaunts. Gives me a nice change of pace from a long day at the clinic."

"Really? Then I'll let you know whenever I've got a job. You're more than welcome to come along." She laughed lightly. "You're much better company than Carver anyway."

Anders laughed also. "Glad to hear it."

Paden sighed. "Are you busy for the rest of the day?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Today I'm actually free, for the most part. What'd you have in mind?"

"Carver and I were following a lead in an investigation, in order to claim the reward for finding a missing woman. We need to go to Darktown next and find a Templar who may know something about it."

"A Templar?" Anders said, arching his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you'd even want to get close to one."

"Well, I don't really. But what other choice do I have? Talking to him is the only lead we have. We'd have to drop the case otherwise."

"So why don't you just drop the case then?"

Paden frowned. "Because we need the money. And besides, I'm used to taking risks. I had to do it all the time working for Athenril. And as long as I don't cast a spell in front of the man, then he won't ever know I'm a mage. But I understand why you'd rather not come. I shouldn't have asked, I wasn't thinking."

Anders shook his head. "No, it's all right. I'll go with you. You're right, he won't know we're mages, just…let's be careful."

"We won't go alone," Paden assured. "What's one Templar against two mages, a dwarf and my brother?" She gave him a sidelong glance and smiled.

He chuckled lightly. "I think I like you, Paden Hawke."

"Oh? Nice to have the vote of confidence." She slipped off the crate and turned to face him. "Let's get going; this Templar might not even be in Darktown any longer. And I'd rather not have to go looking for him in the Gallows."

"I hear you," Anders agreed.


	17. Demons of Sloth

**A/N:** So I've (finally) posted the edited versions of chapters 1-7. Some of them have just a few things fixed, like typos and what-not, but others, like chapter 6, have been extensively rewritten. So, if you read those chapters originally before this date (6/23/13) you may want to go back and read them again, especially chapter 6.

Also, both my betas are on hiatus indefinitely because of real life (we've all been there), so I am currently without a beta. So I apologize in advance for the roughness of this chapter, and all the rest that follow. And if anyone would like to be my new beta for this story, please PM me, as I could probably definitely use the help!

Now back to your regularly scheduled chapter.

**Act One**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Demons of Sloth**

Paden and Anders rounded up Carver and Varric, and the four of them headed into Darktown. Darktown was huge, and if you didn't know exactly where to find someone down there, chances were you'd never just run into them. So they asked around. Several people had seen the Templar in question, most were none too happy that he had been snooping around in their part of the world. They followed rabbit trail after rabbit trail and never seemed to get anywhere.

"I say we just go where we know we'll find a Templar," Varric said after an hour of searching.

"Looking for him in the Gallows will be my last resort, Varric," Paden said. "Doing it this way is risky enough."

"If you're that afraid of getting caught, then maybe _I_ should go question him in the Gallows," Varric offered.

Paden gave him a smile. "That's sweet of you, Varric. Let's just look around here a little longer before giving up." She approached a man who was sitting beside a campfire smoking a pipe. "Excuse me, have you seen a Templar around here today?" she asked for umpteenth time.

The man arched one eyebrow at her. "Funny you should ask that," he said. "One was just here not ten minutes ago."

Paden looked at her companions in surprise. "Really? Which way did he go?"

The man pointed with his pipe stem to a steep stairway that descended even deeper into Darktown. "He was asking people 'bout some woman that's gone missing or some such. Didn't pay much attention to him myself. But he went down there if you want follow."

"Thank you," Paden said, and they took the stairs to the lower level.

"This Templar has really got some nerve coming all the way down here by himself," Anders commented. "There are a lot of apostates hiding in Darktown. He'd be fair pickings for some of the more vengeful ones."

"No to mention Carta, mercenaries and general thieves," Varric added. "They love going after people who look like they don't belong."

"Templars are pretty tough, though," Paden said. "He could probably stand up for himself."

They came to the top of a short stairwell, and from down below they could hear men's voices raised in anger. As they descended the steps they witnessed a group of armed men harassing a gray-haired Templar who had his sword drawn. The man was obviously out of his element as the thugs surrounded him.

"You were saying?" Varric quipped.

"This will end badly for someone," Paden said.

Carver drew his sword and Varric took Bianca off his shoulder. They charged down the stairs to defend the lone Templar.

Anders looked at Paden. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he said, and sighed. "No obvious magic. Staffs as weapons only."

Paden nodded and they ran down the stairs after the others. Carver had drawn most of the thugs away from the Templar, who had retreated back against a wall. But Carver was vastly out numbered and would soon be overwhelmed. Varric took up a guarding position in front of the Templar, shooting anyone who came too close.

Without giving themselves away, Paden and Anders were forced to leave their staffs out of the equation, at least where magic was concerned, since a staff would just telegraph their use of magic. But a mage didn't need a staff do magic. Though, Paden had never used her staff as a blunt force weapon before either, nor had she done any sort of combat without her staff, or without casting ranged spells. The little bit of study she had done on covert spells was unpracticed. So she followed Anders' lead.

He ran into the battle, using his staff more like a sword, which was easy for him since his staff had quite a nice blade on the end of it. But he used both ends, one to slice and stab and the other to strike and pummel. Every chance he got he'd contact the enemy with his bare hands, sending electricity directly into them without creating a noticeable arc. Paden was further impressed by his combat skills. It didn't seem like something a healer would be proficient in. Did he learn all that as a Warden?

Paden fumbled her way through the battle, using her staff only as a way to keep the thugs away from her. She electrocuted a couple, stunning them enough for Carver to finish off. But in the end she felt like she didn't really do much compared with the others. Avoiding the Templars altogether was much easier.

Once the last thug fell under Carver's sword, Paden went over to the Templar, who came forward to meet her.

"I thank you, serah, for coming along when you did," he said. "My name is Emeric."

"Just the person I was looking for," Paden said with a smile. "I heard you're looking for Ninette."

"Ghyslain de Carrac's wife, yes, have you seen her?"

Paden shook her head. "No, I'm looking for her as well. I was hoping you could give me some leads."

Emeric sighed. "Her disappearance interested me. I tried looking into it. However, the investigation has been a waste of time."

Great, so they weren't the only ones having that problem? That didn't bode well. "Did you learn nothing?" Paden asked.

"Most people just say she left her husband," Emeric said, obviously annoyed. "This all started when Mheren, one of our Circle mages, disappeared. I found it odd. She was a bit older and hardly adventurous. Then I heard about Ninette and two other missing women."

Varric chuckled. "I had a friend who disappeared once. Turned out he was under my bed, drunk." He glanced at the others and they just stared at him. He shrugged. "What?"

Paden sighed and looked back at Emeric, who ignored the dwarf. "I think the disappearances are connected, and I suspect foul play is involved."

"Mages routinely flee the Circle," Paden said. "Perhaps Mheren just wanted freedom."

"She had always been loyal," Emeric said. "She received lilies from an unknown suitor, and some of us thought she may have gone to meet him. Perhaps her disappearance is linked."

"Doesn't the Circle use phylacteries to keep track of its mages?" Paden asked.

Emeric nodded. "We followed her phylactery to a foundry, but found nothing. I had heard of sympathizers smuggling mages through Darktown, so came here hoping to pick up the trail. But there was no trace of Mheren. And as you've seen, asking the locals hasn't made me very popular."

"Haven't you mentioned this to the City Guard?" Paden asked.

"They said there's no proof the disappearance are connected," Emeric said. "They think that the women just left home. That it happens all the time."

"People don't just disappear," Paden said. "Perhaps they were murdered, or kidnapped."

"We found no bodies, no ransom notes. Those women just vanished."

"Seems like your investigation is a little farther along than mine," Paden said.

"You may take over if you wish," Emeric said. "I am through with it."

Paden frowned. "You're just giving up? Is it really that hopeless?"

"This battle showed that I am no longer the warrior I used to be," Emeric explained. "I know when to walk away." He handed Paden a small diary. "Here, take my findings. Perhaps you can make more use of them. I'm going back to the Gallows. I'm too old for this."

"Thank you," Paden said.

Emeric left, and Paden flipped through the diary. Anders came to look over her shoulder. "He keeps sloppy records," he commented after a moment.

"Well, talking to him has convinced me of one thing at least," Paden said. "Ninette is more likely missing against her will. Did you hear what Emeric said about Mheren? She received lilies from a suitor just before she went missing." She looked at Carver. "Didn't Ghyslain say the same thing about Ninette?"

"Now that you mention it, yes, he did," Carver said. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. But he said that the elf, Jethann, sent them. So does that mean that Jethann is the killer?"

"Assuming they've been killed," Paden said.

"Unfortunately that's usually what happens to women when they go missing," Anders said.

"Well, in any case, I think we should check out that foundry that Emeric mentioned. Maybe we can find some clues there."

"So, onward and upward then?" Varric asked.

"Might as well," Paden said. "We still have several hours before we have to meet Athenril's boy at the docks."

They left Darktown and headed to the foundry and factory district of Lowtown, a dirty, smelly place, where the streets and the buildings seemed to always be coated with a thin layer of black grime. Ash from the factory smoke stacks drifted lazily from the sky like snow, clinging to their hair and tickling Paden's nose. She used the information in Emeric's diary to find the right building, and they went inside.

The main room of the foundry was large, with a high catwalk around three sides of it and stairs going up. As soon as they walked into the room they noticed someone up on the catwalk, but couldn't make out what he was doing or what he looked like from that distance. He saw them and hurriedly fled into an upper room.

Paden began running after him, but suddenly a horrifying creature rose up out of the floor in front of her. Larger than a human, gray and black and brown all muddled together, with a sinewy, rotted-corps look to its flesh. Long arms with hands nearly dragging on the ground, and a nearly featureless face with eyes like white lights shining out from under a leather cowl.

Paden had never seen anything like it and she froze in place, not sure what to do. And just as the one rose up in front of her, two more appeared on either side.

"Shades!" Anders shouted. "Demons with strong magic. Kill them quickly!" Putting action to words he began throwing a barrage of spells at the Shade that was closest to Paden.

It took Paden only a moment to comprehend Anders' words, and then she had her staff in her hands. She could feel the power the shades were drawing, crackling across her skin like the static charge in a wool sweater. Coupled with the rumbling, moaning sound they made, the air around them felt heavy and oppressive.

Paden used a freezing spell on one of the shades, which seemed to work surprisingly well. It slowed the shade's movement to a halt, and Carver took advantage of that, rushing over with his sword and hacking at the demon with all his strength. But it overcame the effects of the spell after only a few moments, and Carver had to move his feet to keep from being knocked over by those huge swinging arms. Finally, though, he landed the killing blow and the shade burst into a black vapor cloud that dissipated quickly.

Paden glanced around and noticed that for each shade they dispatched, another one seemed to take its place. She used the freezing spell on another shade and left it for Carver to finish off, while sending a lightening bolt through yet another one.

Suddenly Paden began to feel overwhelmingly exhausted, like she had been fighting for hours without rest. Her movements slowed considerably, and she started to wonder if she could even go on.

"Hawke!" Varric's voice called. "Are you hurt?"

Paden suddenly realized she was standing still, not even fighting anymore.

"Hawke! Look out!"

Three shades were closing in on her from different directions, but Paden felt too weak to care. And then Anders was beside her. He sent a powerful mind blast toward the shades, but it affected Paden a little as well. She staggered backward slightly, flailing her arms to keep her balance. It did her no good. She toppled backward and landed hard on her rear. Then she just sat there, unable to do much else, her mind so foggy she was barely aware of the three men coming to her rescue.

Anders used a freezing spell on one of the shades, and lightening on another, while Varric pumped bolt after bolt from Bianca into the third. Carver's sword shattered the frozen shade, and then they were all gone.

The men stood panting for a moment, making sure no more would suddenly materialize in front of them. And then they were all gathered around Paden. Anders knelt beside her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

Paden shook her head. "I don't think so," she managed. "I just…I fell down, I guess."

Varric let out a breath he must have been holding for a while. "Don't scare me like that again, Hawke. 'He died of fright' is not how I want my story to end."

Paden couldn't help but smile at that. "I think I'll be fine," she said. "Help me up?"

Anders pulled Paden to her feet, but kept a steadying hand on her shoulder. "All right?"

Paden nodded. "Yes, let's…lets… uh, what were we doing here again?"

"Ninette," Varric said. "And the Templar Emeric." He exchanged worried glances with the others.

"Right," Paden said, finally remembering. But things like their mission and fighting and walking, and even talking just seemed too tiring, too difficult to even bother with.

The men watched for a moment longer, but then Carver finally sheathed his sword. "Let's go," he said. "Whoever that was up there is probably long gone by now." He started walking toward the stairs that led to the top of the catwalk. The others followed him.

Paden felt like her boot soles were made with lead as she plodded along behind the others. She tried lifting her foot onto the first step, but she didn't lift it high enough and her toe caught the edge of it. She toppled forward, and, unable to regain her balance, fell flat on her face on the stairs.

"Hawke!" Varric exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

Anders hurried back down the stairs and helped her into a sitting position. He looked into her face, his brow etched with concern. "What are you feeling?" he asked her.

Paden forced the fog from her mind enough to answer him. "I'm so…tired," she said. "More tired than I've ever felt before. I can't… make my body cooperate with me."

"It's as I suspected," Anders said. "She's under the influence of a weakness spell, cast by one of the shades."

"But all the shades are dead," Carver said. "How is it still affecting her?"

Anders shook his head. "A weakness spell does not break upon the death of its caster. And the victim will remain in its hold indefinitely, unless it is broken by a third party or killed."

"No, don't kill me!" Paden exclaimed, her mind too muddled to realize she was being silly.

Anders chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, we're not going to kill you. I believe I can break the spell. But you need to lie down." He put an arm around her and supported her down the steps, then helped her lie down on the floor. Then he knelt beside her and rested one hand on her head and the other lightly on her belly. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Paden felt a sudden rush of power through her body, like a jolt of electricity. She gasped and her body spasmed. The sensation that followed was one that she had never felt before, and would not easily forget. It was as if hundreds of tiny threads were running through all the pores and veins in her body, and Anders grasped the ends of each one and began to pull them all together. They slowly snaked through her body, tingling and tickling the whole way. She groaned in discomfort and tried to role over to get away from the strange feeling, but Anders' hands pressed her to the floor.

She looked up at his face. His eyes were closed tightly in concentration, his jaw clenched. A white light emanated from his hands, and after a moment he lifted his hands, drawing them slowly together above Paden's body, until it looked like he was holding a white ball of energy in both hands. Then, with a concentrated effort, he squeezed the ball, and it got smaller and smaller and smaller until it was the size of a plum. Then with one hand he shot the glowing ball into the wall at his right. It disappeared, and Anders' body sagged from exertion.

As soon as the light disappeared, Paden felt the heavy shroud of exhaustion lift and her head cleared. She sat up, putting a hand to her head. "Oh, that was horrific," she said.

"So it worked then?" Varric asked. "The spell is broken?"

Anders nodded. "Yes, it's gone."

"What were demons doing here?" Paden demanded. "I've never seen an actual demon before."

"I have, unfortunately," Anders said. "Many, in fact. You've never gone through a harrowing like mages in the Circle are forced to. So you've never had that experience fighting demons. Those were lesser shades, also known as sloth demons. They're the most common rank of demon in the fade, and easily summoned by a blood mage. I bet you anything that man we saw up there summoned them to distract us while he got away."

"A blood mage?" Paden said. "That's just great. Let's pray to the Maker this is in no way connected to the case of the missing women."

"That would be ideal, wouldn't it?" Varric said. "I have a feeling, though, that we're not going to be that lucky."

"I have a feeling you're right," Paden said with a sigh. She got to her feet, amazed at how much better she felt. She looked at Anders as he stood up. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll be fine in a minute. Lets take a look at the rooms upstairs."

They went cautiously up the stairs to discover three small rooms containing crates and various supplies. One seemed to be set up like an office that doubled as a bedroom. Paden wandered around for a moment, looking for clues. On the floor by the desk she noticed a bulging leather bag like a satchel. She reached down and pulled back the flap to look inside, and then jumped back, startled. The bag contained rotting human remains, including a hand and a skull.

"Oh, Maker!" Paden exclaimed, clutching her chest with one hand and covering her mouth with the other.

"What's the matter?"' Carver asked.

Paden pointed to the sack. "It's hopefully not Ninette."

Carver came over and looked into the bag, drawing his hand back slightly when he saw the contents. Varric and Anders came over to have a look as well.

"The ring on that hand looks Orlesian," Anders remarked.

Paden crouched down to take a closer look at the fancy piece of jewelry. She sighed softly. "It does," she agreed. "Then…if this hand belonged to Ninette—Andraste guide her—Ghyslain should have the ring back at least."

She scrunched her nose as she reached into the sack and gingerly lifted the hand enough to pull the ring off the finger. It tore some of the rotted skin and Paden had to hold her breath to keep from hurling up her breakfast. Then she stood up quickly and stepped back away from area, taking a few deep breaths. "Oh, Maker…"

"Here," Anders said, holding out a handkerchief. Paden placed the ring on it and Anders wrapped it up and handed it back to her.

"Emeric will want to see these remains," Paden said.

Carver picked up the satchel and secured the flap closed. "We better be getting paid a lot for this," he muttered.

"Lets go," Paden said. "I feel like I've done my good deed for the day, but we still have to meet Athenril's boy at the docks tonight."

"And whose fault is that?" Carver said. "You're the one who took that job."

Paden sent him a glare. "Come on. First stop, the Gallows to find Emeric. I don't want carry this sack around any longer than necessary."

"So we're going to go to the Gallows anyway?" Carver said.

"But this time we know who we're looking for. We know his name and what he looks like. It will be a lot easier to find him without drawing too much attention."

"I still think you're crazy," Carver said.


	18. All Work and Little Play

**A/N:** I just realized that I forgot to post a chapter last week! It wasn't for lack of a chapter either, I just forgot! lol! I guess that's what being sick for a week does to someone. Anyway, once again, sorry if the chapter is a bit rough, as I am still without a beta. Hope you enjoy! :-)

****—

**Act One**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**All Work and Little Pay **

Paden was right. It was a lot easier to find Emeric in the Gallows than even she anticipated. He was in the courtyard when they entered, and they recognized him. Paden approached him with the sack of human remains.

"This is what I found," she said, handing him the sack. "This was left in the foundry you mentioned in your notes. I was also attacked by shades," she added.

Emeric opened the sack and looked inside, arching his eyebrows in surprise. "These are human bones," he said. "Then there is no chance of finding Mheren alive, or any of the others."

"It is a logical conclusion," Paden said regretfully. "I saw someone leaving the scene, but they got away. I'm sorry."

"It was more than I accomplished," Emeric said. "I will bring this to the City Guard immediately. It should be enough to convince them the disappearances are worth investigating. Thank you, serah." He inclined his head to Paden, and then left with the sack.

Paden turned to the others. "Well, I guess that's done then," she said. "We just have to take the ring to Ghyslain, and hope he'll give us something for our efforts. We really have no other leads to follow."

"Well, we'd best do it quickly," Carver said. "The sun will be going down soon."

They took the ferry back to the city, and then hiked the hundred steps up from the docks into Lowtown.

"You all go ahead," Anders said once they reached the top. "I need to check in at my clinic; I've been gone too long as it is."

"So you're not coming to the docks with us tonight?" Paden asked in disappointment.

"Don't worry, I'll come. I'll meet you right here at nightfall."

They went their separate ways; Anders to his clinic, and Paden, Carver and Varric to Hightown and Ghyslain's house.

Ghyslain came out to meet them when Paden knocked on his door.

"This ring is all I have to return to you," she said, handing the ring to him. "I'm sorry."

Ghyslain took it and looked at it closely. "Oh," he gasped, sorrow filling his eyes. "Ninette's wedding ring. Yes…look at the engraving; 'Forever faithful. Forever yours.' Written in happier times." He looked up at Paden. "Where did you find it?"

Paden was about to tell him the exact truth, but the look of sadness on Ghyslain's face made her change her mind. She could see that he really had loved his wife, and that he was going to miss her, despite what she had done to him. She shook her head. "Just…know that she will not return," she said gently.

"Oh…" Ghyslain closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's better this way," he said. "Our marriage has been in shambles for more than a decade. I'll send the ring to her family. With luck it will appease them. Thank you, for all your help, serah." He handed Paden a coin. "Maker watch over you." And with that, he went back into his house.

Paden looked at the coin in her hand. It was a gold sovereign. She gaped at it in surprise and held it up for Carver to see.

Carver smiled and took the coin. "Better than I hoped," he said. "Only forty-seven more to go."

Varric chuckled. "It's a start anyway."

Paden sighed, feeling a little melancholy after talking with Ghyslain. "Let's go get something to eat before heading to the docks," she said. "I need to get my energy back up."

"Hanged Man?" Varric asked.

"Hanged Man," Paden and Carver said in unison.

—

At nightfall they met Anders, and then headed down to the docks. All the dock workers had already gone home, and the place was quiet except for the lapping of waves against moored boats.

"There," Paden said, pointing to a young teen boy loitering near a stack of cargo crates. A small locked chest sat on the ground by his feet. "That may be Pryce. Though, he's a lot younger than I thought he'd be. Let's talk to him."

As they headed over to the boy, he was approached by a group of armed men. Before the men could get very close, the boy ran from them, leaving the chest behind. He ran straight toward Paden and her companions.

"Get him!" one of the men shouted, and they gave chase, drawing weapons.

"Those are Coterie!" Varric exclaimed, referring to Kirkwall's most powerful thieves guild.

Paden smiled as she conjured a fireball in each hand. "I'll take the Coterie over demons any day," she said, and then hurled the fireballs at the thieves. They struck their targets and exploded, sending roiling flames in all directions. The force of the blast knocked most of the thieves off their feet, several never to rise again. Carver rushed forward to meet the remaining ones with his sword.

Paden took her staff into her hand and began sending basic attack spells at the Coterie thugs. From the corner of her eye she could see Anders beside her doing the same. Then she felt something _whoosh_ by her head. An arrow hit the wall to her right and bounced off the stone facing.

Paden fell into a crouch and glanced around to see where the shooter was. There, three archers positioned some ways down the street.

"Anders, get down!" Paden shouted.

He responded just in time, falling into a crouch just as two more arrows split the air where he had been. Paden conjured another fireball and sent it toward the archers, but it fizzled out just before reaching them.

"Blast, they're out of range!" she said.

"Bianca can handle this herself," Varric said, running forward a bit, he aimed his crossbow and got off two shots in quick succession. Two of the archers fell, and the third was beheaded by Carver's sword. And that was the lot of them.

"Hey, that one was mine!" Varric called to Carver as he rejoined them, sheathing his sword.

"Too slow, Dwarf," Carver said.

Paden turned around to look for the boy, and saw him coming out of the shadows to meet them.

"Are you Pryce?" Paden asked.

"Yes. Thank you," the boy said. "I thought them Coterie men had me for sure. I guess the whole thing was a trap. There were no dwarves when I went to make the trade. Just Coterie waitin' to kill us. They got the rest of the boys. I ran. I was hopin' they wouldn't find me here, but they did."

"You're a bit young to be doing this," Paden said.

"I'm fifteen," Pryce replied. "But I can usually pass for a man. Me mama was ripped in two by one off them big-horned Darkspawn. It's just me and me sisters now." He bowed his head. "Workin' for Athenril's the only way to feed the girls."

Paden's heart broke for the lad. He had gone through a similar experience as she had; loosing a family member to Darkspawn, fleeing for their lives. Only, Pryce and his sisters had no one to watch out for them. The pay from Athenril for a job well done meant nothing to Paden compared to this boy's plight. She hoped Carver wouldn't hate her for what she was about to do.

"Why not take what Athenril gave you and start fresh somewhere outside of Kirkwall?" she suggested.

Pryce glanced over at the chest filled with fine goods that he was supposed to trade to the Carta. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Carver spoke up. "In Lothering there were always families willing to take in a strong lad and a few girls to help with the cooking."

Paden was pleased to hear that Carver still had a bit of softness in his heart for others. "There are farms all over the Free Marches," Paden said. "You could do well for you and your sisters."

"My father was a farmer," Pryce said. "Before the Darkspawn got him." He glanced over at the chest again, contemplating. "I'd rather do that than…work for Athenril." He went over to retrieve the chest, then looked back at Paden. "I'll go get my sisters," he said. "Please, make sure she doesn't come after us." He picked the chest up and hurried away.

"You're going to be in trouble with Athenril now," Carver said. "Losing her goods like that."

Paden shook her head. "There were Coterie. The goods were gone long before we got here," she said with a wry smile.

Carver chuckled. "Let's go home, Sister. Today has been a long day."

—

The next morning, Paden took a walk with Anders to the Red Lantern district of Hightown to face Athenril. She deliberately left Carver at home, since her good deed the night before had eased some of the tension between them, and she didn't want anything to jeopardize that.

"Well?" Athenril said when she saw Paden. "Are you here to socialize or did you bring my goods?"

"I rescued your boy and killed the Coterie," Paden said. "But your property was long gone." She had no qualms about lying to Athenril. Athenril was the one who had forced Paden to become good at it, after all.

"Coterie," Athenril spat. "I should have figured. They've got a lock on all trade with the dwarves. If I'd had someone decent on the job they would have dug into it first, not walked in blindly." She shrugged. "Well, no cargo, no coin. If you're ever looking for more work, I keep my books right here. Feel free to sign yourself up." She left and Paden sighed.

"Well, that's that," she said.

"That was a good thing you did for that boy Pryce last night," Anders commended. "Not many people would have given up a chance for gold just to help out a stranger."

Paden shrugged, trying to make light of it. "I imagined myself in his shoes," she said simply. "I wasn't far from ending up like him myself."

"Still," Anders said, and he gave her a smile.

She looked at him and realized that he had really been impressed by her actions. She blushed lightly and turned away to take a look at Athenril's books. She put her name down, glad that Carver wasn't there to see her do it. They still needed coin, and Athenril was still offering.

She sighed as she stood up straight and looked at Anders. "I feel like we're not getting anywhere," she admitted. They began walking, leaving the Red Lantern District behind. "I know we only signed on to this Deep Roads expedition a week ago, but in all that time we've had three jobs, but only got paid for two. And made only three sovereigns out of the fifty we need. And two of those were from selling stuff I looted from bodies! Where would we be if I wasn't doing that?"

"When is the expedition anyway?" Anders asked.

Paden shrugged. "It's whenever we have the coin to afford it. So at this rate it'll be in about a month." She sighed. "I was hoping it could be sooner than that."

"But is that even realistic?" Anders asked. "Coin is not easy to come by in this city. At least not for refugees. You know that."

"Yes, I know. I'm just tired of living in the slums, and…I'm tired of living in fear."

"Fear of Templars?" Anders asked.

Paden nodded. "I'm not afraid for myself or what they might do to me. But if I'm caught, then my mother and Carver will be thrown in prison for harboring an apostate." She sighed and gestured to Anders. "I'm sure you're an expert on how that works. What my family needs is a name that means something in this city. And money to back it up. With that kind of power the Templars wouldn't dare touch us."

"I guess that makes sense," Anders said. "But that doesn't seem like you."

She looked at him. "And what does seem like me?"

He shrugged and sent her a lopsided smile. "You are a simple, uncomplicated woman, Paden Hawke. And I mean that with the greatest respect. I've known you for less than a week, but that's enough to see that you don't want the life of a noble. You're a simple girl from Lothering, and that's all you really want to be. Or am I wrong?"

Paden shook her head. "No, you're not wrong. Dead right, actually. But what else am I supposed to do? We're not in Lothering anymore. There I knew who each Templar was, what their personalities were, which were sympathetic and which weren't. I could avoid them without effort. Here, there are too many. Too many." She rubbed her eyes wearily and then gestured broadly in frustration. "As long as my family remains refugees we have nothing to stand on, nothing to protect us. The only real future we have is to establish ourselves in Hightown among the nobles, whether it 'seems like me' or not."

"Then that's what you'll do," Anders said. "Another thing I've learned about you in the last five days is, you get what you want. You set a goal before you and don't give up until you make it a reality. Living in Hightown is a lofty goal. But you will see it done. I know you will."

Paden looked over at him, regarding him closely for a moment. Those had been the most encouraging words she had heard from anyone in a long, long while. "Thank you," she said, unable to find any other words to say.

He gave her a smile and then gestured in the direction of the Hightown Market. "Would you like to get a pastry before heading back? I sort of feel in the mood for one."

Paden grinned. "That sounds lovely," she said. They began walking toward the market. Paden wished that she could take Anders' arm and walk with him as she had often seen couples walking together. And before she could stop herself from thinking those kinds of thoughts, her hand slipped through the crook of his elbow.

"So, what kind of pastry is your favorite?" she asked him, partially to distract him from what she just did. If he noticed where her hand was then he didn't indicate as much. They continued walking like that and he didn't pull away.

"I like pie," he answered.

"What kind of pie?"

"Any kind. All kinds. I just like pie. How about you?"

"Branson's Bakery just above the market has this delightful pastry…I don't even remember what it's called, but it's so good. It's all flaky crust and chocolate cream."

"Sounds yummy," Anders said. "I might have to forgo pie this time and try it."

"You won't regret it," Paden assured.

As they walked through the chantry courtyard, they were approached by a distraught young woman.

"Please! Can you help me?" she said. "My brother…"

Paden frowned. "What's wrong?" she asked.

The girl let out a small sigh of relief that someone was going to give her the time of day. "He's gone missing," the girl said. "I don't know what's happened to him, I need help."

Paden sighed and glanced at Anders. "So many people missing lately," she commented. He arched an eyebrow at her and she turned back to the girl. "Why ask us for help? We're nobody to you. Isn't this a job for the City Guard?"

The woman shook her head. "They can't do anything, as I have a feeling this is an internal affair."

Paden furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Keran used to write to me every day, without fail. But then the letters stopped coming. I wrote him many times with no response. Then I went to the Gallows to see him, but Knight-Commander Meredith threw me out, they won't tell me anything."

"Knight-Commander Meredith?" Paden said in surprise. "Is your brother a mage?"

The girl shook her head. "No, a Templar—well, a recruit. Keran was always so devout, so idealistic. He was so proud when the Templars accepted him."

Paden exchanged a glance with Anders. He shook his head slightly, warning her to mind her own business. She looked back at the girl, forcing the expression on her face to remain neutral, but she wasn't sure she was completely successful, since the girl reacted.

"I pleaded with him not to join the order," she said, her tone desperate. "But he wouldn't listen." She looked at Paden with fear in her eyes. "You hear dark rumors about the Templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone."

"Why would your brother be missing within the Order?" Paden asked. "What rumors have you heard?"

"People harboring escaped mages just…disappear," the woman said. "Templars threaten and interrogate passersby. My friend has a cousin who's a mage. And she says he was made tranquil against his will. You hear more with every passing day."

Paden looked at Anders to see his reaction. His jaw was clenched and he met her eyes and nodded, indicating that either he had heard those rumors as well, or that he knew they were true. Either way the news was unnerving.

Paden frowned slightly. "But what about Knight-Commander Meredith?" she asked. "Does she sanction these things?" Paden knew next to nothing about the Knight-Commander, only that she was the leader of the Templars in Kirkwall.

"Some say she is terribly fierce, and utterly without pity," the woman said. "That she sees demons everywhere." She lowered her voice and glanced around, as if afraid someone would hear her. "It is dangerous even to whisper such things," she said.

"So, what are you saying—I'm sorry…what's your name?"

"Macha," the girl said.

"Right, Macha. What does any of that have to do with your brother? He's not even a mage."

"No, he's not, and that's why I know something must be wrong. Mages disappear all the time, but he's a Templar, not a prisoner. Why wouldn't they tell me what's going on?"

Paden shrugged. "Maybe they don't know."

"But then why not just tell me that?" Macha said, growing frustrated. "It makes no sense! They won't tell me anything, and it's been weeks."

"But what makes you think I can help?" Paden asked.

"I need someone who can go to the Gallows for me and ask around," Macha said. "They won't even talk to me anymore."

Paden held up her hands and shook her head. "No, no, I'm sorry. I'm not going to stick my nose into Templar affairs. It's too dangerous." She turned to walk away, Anders following her.

"Wait!" Macha called. "Please!"

Paden stopped and closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. She hated it when people pleaded with her for help when she didn't want to give it. She had such a difficult time saying no when they did that.

She turned back to face the girl. "Look, Macha, it's not that I don't want to help your brother, it's just that I can't get close to Templars. Do you understand?"

Macha met Paden's gaze, and after a moment realization dawned and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh, messere, any secret you have is safe with me."

Paden smiled slightly and exchanged a look with Anders. "I appreciate that," she said to Macha. "But it is not you I fear. Your brother, and any other Templar I talk to is a threat to me. The risks are just too great."

Macha's face fell in disappointment and moisture rimmed the corners of her eyes. "But what else can I do?" she nearly wailed. "No one will help me. No one else cares about Keran. Please, messere, I can't pay you, but I'll do anything else in return for your help. Please."

Paden rubbed her hands down her face and let out a resigned sigh. How could she say no to this poor girl? Would she herself not be as desperate if Carver were missing? Would she not brave Templars and every other danger to get him back? Was this Keren's life worth less than Carver's?

"I doubt the Knight-Commander will talk to me," she said, her insides tying themselves up in knots at the very idea of meeting the leader of the Templars face to face.

Macha shook her head. "No, you wouldn't need to. All you'd have to do is go to the Gallows and find the recruits Wilmod and Hugh. They were Keren's closest friends in the order. If anyone knows where he is it's them."

Paden glanced at Anders briefly, long enough to see the frown on his face, before looking back at Macha. "All right," she finally said. "I will try to find out what happened to your brother. But I can't promise anything."

Macha's eyes lit up with relief. "Oh, messere, thank you! Thank you so very much. Maker bless you and watch over you in this endeavor."

Macha bowed slightly to Paden and then walked away. Paden turned to face Anders.

"This is not a good idea," he said flatly.

Paden held up her hands to stem his comments and began walking toward the market again. "I know, I know. I know the risks, I know the dangers. I know all the reasons why I should just stay clear away."

Anders fell into step beside her. "And yet you meddle anyway," he said.

She looked sharply at him. "You think I'm meddling? She came to me."

"And you should have insisted you're not interested and walked away. What are you doing this for? She can't even pay you."

"Oh, now everything's about money?" Paden said with an unamused laugh. "This from the mage who runs a free clinic?"

Anders said nothing after that. He simply stared at the ground as they walked briskly down the street.

Paden glanced at him and then sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "Me and my tongue." She rubbed her brow as her steps slowed a little. "I just know…how I would feel if…if my brother was missing."

They reached the Hightown Market and Paden stopped in the shade of the large tree that grew from the center of the square. She scratched her head and paced restlessly.

"I know it's not the _smartest_ thing to do, Anders. All I know is that I feel in my gut that it's the _right_ thing to do." She sat down on a stone bench under the tree. "I _Can_ do it. I can help that poor girl find out what happened to her brother. Shouldn't I do what feels right if I can?"

Anders stood looking down at her for a moment in silence, then he sat beside her, clasping his hands in his lap. "You know I'm all for helping people in need," he said, his voice soft. "And I commend you for your desire to help. I realize you know the dangers even better than most. So… if I can't stop you from involving yourself with the Templars, then I'll go with you, to keep you safe."

She looked over at him in surprise. "You will? Are you sure? You don't have to."

He nodded and smiled slightly. "There's no way I'm going to let you wander around the Gallows talking to Templars alone. Your brother would kill me."

Paden chuckled. "He might kill you for letting me go. You're probably better off sucker-punching me and carrying me home."

He gave her his lopsided smile. "Sorry. I don't think black eyes are very becoming."

They both watched the goings on in the market for a few moments in silence.

"So, we were going to go get a pastry," Paden reminded.

"We were," Anders agreed. "How about we give that a rain check, though. If this Keran is indeed in trouble, then every moment counts."

She gave him a grateful smile and then stood up. "Thank you, Anders. It means a lot that you would risk this with me."

He glanced at her, and paused before saying, "Well, some things are important to me, too."

What did he mean by that? Surly he wasn't referring to the Templars. Was he talking about her?Paden smiled slightly at the thought that she was important to him.


	19. Thin Ice

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter is late. Busy busy weekend. Anyway, here it is, hope you enjoy. Again, sorry it's such a rough chapter. I'm still without a beta, and the position is still open if any of you are interested.

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Thin Ice**

Paden had managed to avoid coming to the Gallows for any reason the entire first year her family lived in Kirkwall, and now she'd managed to find herself there three times in one week. She hoped this was not a new trend.

"So, we're looking for recruits called Wilmod and Hugh," she said as she and Anders entered the courtyard.

"Best person to ask would be another recruit," Anders suggested.

Paden saw a group of three recruits on the side of the courtyard, so she headed over to them. As they drew closer she overheard the woman call one of the men Hugh. She glanced at Anders. "Looks like luck is on our side today." Paden stopped beside them, effectively halting their conversation. "Excuse me, do you know a recruit named Keren?" she asked. "His sister is looking for him."

The female recruit folded her arms across her chest and looked at Paden. "We cannot speak to you, messere."

Hugh looked at his companion with a frown. "To the void with that, Ruvena" he said. "Keren and the others are missing."

"But our orders…" the other male recruit cautioned softly. He had a large mustache that made him look a lot older than he probably was.

"The knights aren't doing anything to find them," Hugh said, matching his friend's low tones. "Maybe it's time to ask for outside help."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. "I wasn't even certain Keren was missing. Who else is gone?"

"The first ones disappeared weeks ago," Hugh said. "There's been at least half a dozen. Wilmod and Keren were the most recent."

"Why must you keep silent about Keren?" Paden asked.

"You obviously aren't a Templar, messere," Mustache remarked.

"They told us not to breathe a word about Keren and the others," Hugh said. "If a knight-lieutenant gives you an order, you obey, without question."

"They must have their reasons," Ruvena said.

Hugh looked at her. "And that will be a great comfort if you go missing next?"

"You _can_ trust me," Paden said. "I'm only trying to keep Keren safe. His sister asked me to find out what happened to him. Do you know anything?"

"I hear that Knight-Commander Meredith has some new initiation you have to go through," Mustache said. "If you're not strong enough, or fervent enough in belief, you don't make it out alive."

"Figures," Anders muttered behind Paden's shoulder.

"And you honestly believe that?" Ruvena asked.

"Recruits keep going missing," Hugh said with a slight shrug.

"Wilmod came back," Ruvena announced.

"What?" Hugh exclaimed.

She nodded. "He did. I saw him this morning."

"So apparently they aren't missing for good," Paden said. "Can you tell me more about this initiation?"

"You hear about some…eh…questionable things the Order must do these days," Mustache said. "The Knight-Commander only wants Templars that can do…what must be done."

"Andraste alive," Hugh exclaimed. "She's killing recruits that might question her orders isn't she?"

"That's rubbish," Ruvena said. "She wouldn't do that." But her voice did not contain the conviction her words implied.

Paden felt a nervous fluter in her stomach. The more she heard about Knight-Commander Meredith, the more dread she felt knowing that woman was in command of the most powerful army Kirkwall had. It was a position of tremendous power, and, to Paden's mind, the wrong kind. These were probably all just rumors of course. But knowing that did little to quell her apprehension.

"So, if Wilmod came back, he might know more about the other missing recruits," Paden said, getting things back on topic.

"I bet he would," Hugh agreed.

"Wilmod told me he was going outside Kirkwall," Ruvena said. "Clear his head, he said."

Hugh looked at her in astonishment. "Why didn't you tell us this?"

"Knight-Captain Cullen ordered me not to," Ruvena said. "Right before he chased after Wilmod." She looked at Paden. "If you hurry, you may catch them on the road."

Paden nodded. "Thank you for your help," she said.

She and Anders left them alone, heading back to the Gallows main gate. "What do you think?" she asked him.

"Something suspicious is definitely going on," Anders said. "It's hard to tell what, though."

"Agreed. We need to go find Wilmod then. Seems he's one of the few who might hold the answers."

"The Knight-Captain will likely be with him," Anders cautioned.

"Do you know anything about him?" Paden asked.

"Quite a bit, actually. He was stationed at the Circle Tower in Ferelden when I was there. Cullen is a reasonable man, but he's still a Templar and second only to Meredith. I wouldn't deem it wise to make his acquaintance."

"Maybe we can spy on them then. Not let them see us, or at least not the Knight-Captain. We can talk to Wilmod alone as soon as we get the chance. We have to do something."

Anders sighed. "Very well. But maybe we shouldn't go alone."

"We'll be passing through Lowtown anyway. Carver and Varric were at the Hanged Man playing cards last I saw. We could stop by on the way through and get them to come with us."

"That's probably a good idea," Anders agreed.

—

They went back to Lowtown and found Carver and Varric just where Paden had left them. She told them the situation and their plans to follow Wilmod and Cullen. She purposefully left out the part about Cullen being the Knight-Captain. She didn't want Carver to make too much of a fuss.

He made some fuss, of course. Over the fact that she had involved herself in Templar affairs. But in the end he did as Anders had; agreed to go with her if only to keep her safe, since she was determined to do it with or without him.

The four of them hiked out of Kirkwall, following the main road that skirted the foot of Sundermount. After about twenty minutes of walking, Paden spotted the smoke from a campfire rising over a low hill in the near distance. She cautioned the others to stay quiet as they snuck closer to see who was there.

As they peeked around the side of the hill, they could see a basic campsite near the side of the road. Two men were in the camp, both wearing Templar uniforms. One was a young man with black hair and a frightened expression, backing away from a middle-aged man who must be Knight-Captain Cullen.

Cullen grabbed Wilmod by the arms and shook him. "Andraste be my witness, Wilmod," he all but shouted. "I will have the truth from you now!"

"Mercy, sir," Wilmod begged. "Mercy!"

Cullen's hands gripped the front of Wilmod's armor and he shook him slightly. "Would that it were that easy," he said.

Wilmod shook his head and begged, "Don't hit me."

Cullen punched the young recruit in the side where he had no armor protection. Wilmod doubled over and staggered back a couple steps before falling to the ground. Cullen drew his sword and pointed it at Wilmod's face.

"I will know where you're going, and I will know now!" he ordered.

Paden could stand still no longer. Cullen seemed out of control and she didn't want him to hurt Wilmod. She walked forward into the camp, deflecting Anders' hand as he tried to grab her arm to pull her back.

"I thought Templars only treated mages this badly," she commented. "Nice to see you're branching out."

"It's the blasted Knight-Captain," Carver warned in a harsh whisper as he came up beside her. "Don't."

Cullen looked at her, obviously annoyed at being interrupted. "This is Templar business, stranger," he said.

Before anyone could say anything else, Wilmod began to laugh. It was a strange, creepy-sounding laugh that sent chills up Paden's spine. They all turned to see him getting up from the ground, laughing.

"You have struck me for the last time, you pathetic human!" he cried, his voice not his own. He backed away against a rock outcropping that bordered the campsite, and raised his arms out to both sides. "To me!" he called.

Upon those words, a bright light burst forth from his body, totally consuming him and obscuring him from view of the others as they threw up their hands to block the glare. Paden squinted through her fingers but could see nothing of Wilmod as his moans and cries raked up and down her spine. Something horrible was happening to him, but Paden had never seen anything like it. Well, that wasn't entirely true. When Anders had manifested Justice he had spoken in a different voice and light had come from his body, too. But Anders hadn't cried out in agony like Wilmod was doing. Whatever was happening with Wilmod, Paden had the feeling it wasn't voluntary.

Finally the light dimmed, and Paden took a couple steps back. Wilmod was no more. In his place was a Shade. The Shade gestured to both sides of itself and other shades came rising up out of the ground all around them.

Cullen pulled his shield off his back and took a defensive stance. "Maker preserve us," he breathed.

Paden looked at Anders. She knew there was only one thing to be done here now; these demons had to be killed, even the abomination that used to be Wilmod. But they were in the presence of the Templar Knight-Captain, and if they did any kind of magic, he would know what they were and their fate would be sealed. They had been in a similar situation before, but somehow this one seemed more dangerous.

In the time it took the two mages to exchange a glance, Carver drew his sword and Varric brandished his crossbow. Anders gave Paden a nod, and then took his staff into his hand. A moment later the demons were on them, and Paden was fighting for her life, using as little magic as possible. She didn't know if she should touch the demons in order to transfer spells secretly. She noticed that Anders seemed to be avoiding it, so she did, too. Instead she used her magic for defense only, conjuring an invisible spell shield around herself while she used her staff as a weapon.

The battle was hard, as the humans were outnumbered, and the shades were difficult to kill. Luckily Cullen was a Templar and had a few magical abilities that he used against the demons. Of course, the fact that he was a Templar is what was preventing Paden and Anders from using their much more potent magic in the first place. But shades and abominations could be killed by the sword, and so that's how they fell.

Each time a shade died it exploded into a black vaporous cloud that stung the skin if contacted. Paden's and Anders' spell shields protected them from the vapor; but Carver, Varric and Cullen each suffered the inconvenience.

Cullen and Carver both concentrated on taking down the Wilmod Abomination, while Varric picked off the lesser demons with Bianca. Anders and Paden used their staffs to deal physical damage wherever they could.

Wilmod finally went down, but there were a few other demons left. One came up behind Cullen and slammed into him so hard the Knight-Captain was thrown forward. His sword flew from his hand as he sprawled to the ground. The shade rushed him then, towering over him, it began to pummel the Templar with its fists and claws.

Paden glanced around quickly for someone with a more deadly weapon who could help him. But Carver was on the other side of the campsite hacking away at a different shade, and Varric was currently reloading Bianca. When Paden heard Cullen cry out in pain and desperation, she knew she had to do something quickly.

Without thinking of the possible consequences, she conjured a fireball in her hand, and built up the power in it until it was almost white in intensity. Then she threw it with all her strength at the shade that towered over Cullen.

The force of the blast knocked the creature off its feet. It fell to the ground on its back several yards from Cullen, and didn't rise immediately. Paden didn't give it a chance. She ran forward until she was standing close to Cullen, and sent three consecutive bolts of electricity into the shade. It exploded into a cloud of vapor.

Paden stood over Cullen, breathing heavily as she stared at the dissipating cloud. Only then did she realize what she had just done. She looked down at Cullen, a silly hope entering her head that maybe he hadn't noticed.

He was lying on the ground, eyes wide with shock as he stared up at her. He said nothing, and she said nothing, though her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Cullen pulled himself to his feet and picked up his sword. He gave her another long look, and then turned away from her to fight one of the few remaining demons.

Paden blinked, not sure what had just happened between them. She hoped she didn't live to regret saving the Knight-Captain's life. She looked over her shoulder and saw Anders on the other side of the campsite, watching her, his face expressionless. She quickly looked away and returned to the fight.

A few minutes later it was over. All the shades had vanished, except for the Wilmod abomination, whose body lay in a twisted, grotesque heap on the side of the road.

Cullen sheathed his sword, coughing lightly from loss of breath and irritation from the vapor. "I knew…I _knew_ he was involved in something sinister," he said, his voice a bit rough. "But this…is it even possible?"

"Do you think he was possessed?" Paden asked. It seemed like that would have been obvious, but Wilmod was not a mage, and as far as Paden knew only people with magical abilities could become possessed by spirits.

Cullen crouched beside the corps. "Normally we only worry that mages will fall victim to possession," he said. "I have heard of blood mages, or demons in solid form who could summon others into unwilling hosts." He shook his head in disbelief. "I had not thought one of our own would be susceptible."

He stared at the corps a moment longer and then stood up and faced them. "I am Knight-Captain Cullen," he said. "I thank you for your assistance." Paden met his eyes when he said that, but he quickly looked away, apparently choosing to ignore the fact that she was a mage. At least for now.

"If you didn't know he was possessed, why did you draw your sword on him?" Paden asked.

"I meant to scare him into a confession," Cullen said. "He had to believe my threats were genuine. You see, I've been conducting an investigation of some of our recruits who have gone missing. Wilmod was the first to return." He sighed softly and looked down at the dead abomination. "He'd only been back a few days when he left again secretly. It set off some warning bells. I had hoped to confront him quietly, out of sight."

"So what the recruits believe isn't true then?" Paden asked. "That Meredith was conducting some sort of deadly ritual?"

"What?" Cullen sputtered an amused laugh. "That's preposterous. Recruits can be worse than a weaving circle with their rumors." He rubbed his forehead wearily. "There is a vigil before Templars take their arms, but the gravest danger they face is falling asleep."

"So do you know what happened to Wilmod while he was gone?" Paden asked.

"Obviously more than I had anticipated," Cullen said, looking around at the campsite. "Wilmod has never been fully…convinced of the Order's rules."

"What do you mean?" Paden asked.

Cullen looked at her. "He was sympathetic, a little too much so. Mages cannot be our friends, they must always be watched. I thought Wilmod might be meeting with some old friends who'd escaped the Circle."

Paden forced her expression to remain neutral. Cullen knew she was a mage, but he was talking to her like she wasn't. She should have just let it alone, but she couldn't help the comment that slipped out. "I know some mages. Are you saying they need to always be watched as well?"

"Sister, don't," Carver warned softly.

Cullen's eyes narrowed and he took half a step toward her. "I was at the Circle Tower in Ferelden during the Blight. I saw first hand how a Templar's trust and leniency can be rewarded."

"Trust and leniency," Anders said. "Is that what you call it?"

Cullen narrowed his eyes at Anders, as if trying to place a face that was just beyond the grasp of memory.

Paden had heard about that event in Ferelden. In which a Circle mage called Uldred had become a powerful abomination, and managed to turn more than half the mages against the Templars. If it wasn't for the Gray Warden who managed to defeat Uldred, every mage in the Tower would have been put to death by Right of Annulment. As it was, it had taken a long time for them to rebuild and move on from that tragedy.

Cullen shook his head sadly. "I still have nightmares of Uldred's depravities."

Paden didn't like the way the conversation was going. If Cullen had been at the Circle Tower when that happened, he most likely held extra strong views about the dangers of mages. He knew she was a mage, of that she was certain. That he pretended he didn't know unnerved her. Was he letting her go, or biding his time? Would her good deed come around to stab her in the back one day?

In any case, she quickly changed the subject back to the matter at hand. No use allowing him to dwell on thoughts of mages and how dangerous they could be.

"I was trying to find another recruit, a friend of Wilmod's. Do you know where Keran is?"

Cullen shook his head. "He also disappeared. They were last seen together at the Blooming Rose. But I had no luck interrogating the…uh…young ladies…there." He blushed and glanced away. "I doubt they know anything of magic or demons, though," he added.

Paden smiled slightly, amused by his bashfulness. "But still, you can learn a lot from pillow talk. They could tell you nothing?"

"No one at the brothel would speak with me, for fear I would shut them down for serving our recruits," Cullen explained.

"I could speak with them if you like," Paden said.

Cullen arched an eyebrow at her. "You would help me with this, why?"

Paden shrugged. "I told Keran's sister I would try to find out what happened to him. This looks like the best lead to follow."

"The Order would truly be in your debt if you helped us with this," Cullen said.

"Really?" Paden narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "How much in their debt, exactly?"

Cullen met her eyes for a moment, and some sort of understanding seemed to pass between them. "More than is permissible, I'm sure," he said.

Paden eyed him warily, not completely sure what that meant, but deciding it must be good for her situation.

"If you learn what manner of creature did this to Wilmod, please, come tell me in the Gallows. I will ensure you are rewarded." Cullen gave her a slight bow and then he turned and left the campsite.

Paden let out a tense sigh and turned to face her friends. "Well, that was… interesting," she said.

"I told you there'd be trouble with this," Carver said.

"We're not in trouble," Paden assured. "He doesn't seem to mind what I am."

"Are you sure? He could just be using you now, waiting to arrest you once you bring back this Keran person."

"Don't be ridiculous, Carver," Paden said, though that thought had crossed her mind as well. "I'm pretty good at reading people…most of the time…and Cullen seems like a kind man and sincere. I saved his life. I don't think he would trick us."

"He's still a Templar," Carver said.

"Your brother is right," Anders said. "I know Cullen. He may be a kind person, but make no mistake, he will still do his duty. Do not relax your guard around him."

"I'm not," Paden said defensively, feeling like they were ganging up on her. "I'm just saying, it seems like if he wanted to make an issue over the fact that I'm a mage then he would have done so."

"He wouldn't even know you're a mage if you hadn't cast that spell," Carver said, raising his voice slightly. "What were you thinking, showing your hand like that in front of a Templar?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Paden demanded. "Let him die?"

"Yes," Anders said. "By his very nature he is a threat to you, and you to him. If he thought for one moment that you were a danger to him or anyone else he would cut you down without remorse. Do _not_ underestimate him."

Paden stared, wide eyed, first at Anders, then at Carver. "I can't believe you two," she said. "We're talking about a human being who deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"That's a noble sentiment," Anders said, softening his voice. "But it's also naïve. I've seen Cullen kill mages before. You would only be another notch in his belt."

Paden stared at him for a moment more, and then turned away, pacing in the awkward silence that followed. She didn't want to believe what Anders said was true, partly because she didn't want to be wrong, but mostly because she had hard time believing that Cullen would betray her after everything she had done to help him. Was she being naïve? Maybe she was.

"Well, in any event," Varric said cheerfully. "Off to the Blooming Rose?"

Paden stopped pacing and glanced at the dwarf, giving him a soft smile. "Carver and I were just there yesterday."

"I know," Varric said, mock pouting. "You went without me."

"Well, we might as well continue the investigation," Paden said. "At least now we'll be compensated for our efforts if we can find out what happened to Keran."

"Or arrested when we go to collect," Carver said. Paden ignored him, not wishing to continue the argument.

"Chances are Keran's an abomination as well," Anders said. "If that's the case, we may never find him."

"Well, we still have to try," Paden said wearily. And then she turned and headed back toward Kirkwall, walking ahead of the others. She needed her own space for a while.


	20. Three Spear Alley

**A/N:** I apologize in advance for this chapter. It's got a lot of canon dialogues in it. My inspiration is ebbing rather than flowing lately, and I think it's evident in the quality of my work, and I still don't have a beta. So, I hope you enjoy it anyway. I do like the conversation at the end though. This chapter contains, what I think, is Carver's defining moment in the game.

Please read and review! I love hearing what people think of my story, what I'm doing right and what I could be doing better. A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far.

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Twenty**

**Three Spear Alley**

The long, quiet walk back to the city did Paden some good. She was able to sort out her thoughts and let her anger subside. Anders and Carver hadn't been difficult with her just for the sake of it. They cared about her, and didn't want to see her come to harm. Realizing that made her feel good, but she still had a hard time believing that Cullen was as ruthless as they claimed. She hoped, for all their sakes, that they were wrong.

It was late afternoon by the time they made it back to Hightown. Paden was not looking forward to entering the Blooming Rose again, especially so soon after the last time, with the memories the exotic atmosphere still fresh. She held her breath as they walked through the door, but then exhaled when she realized she wouldn't be able to keep that up for more than a few seconds. She put her hand over her mouth and coughed lightly.

"Ugh, that smell goes right to my gut. Let's find someone who would know anything and then get out of here."

"Madame Lucine runs the place for Harlen," Varric said. "Or…with him, or…on him. It's a Coterie thing."

They walked into the main lounge area.

"If someone here tries to hire me again, I'm leaving," Anders muttered.

Paden looked at him in surprise. "_Hire_ you?" She laughed. "As in for the night? Aww." She laughed again.

Anders arched one eyebrow at her. "You think that's funny?"

Paden nodded. "I would have loved to see how you handled that one. Of course, I can see why someone tried to hire you; you're such a looker."

"Oh Maker," Carver groaned, rolling his eyes.

Anders grinned. "A looker, eh? I'll try not to let that go to my head."

"There's Viveka," Varric said, pointing to a woman near the bar. "She's one of the senior girls here. If anyone can help us it'd be her."

Paden approached the woman, who saw her coming. "Do you need something, Honey?" Viveka asked.

"A couple of Templar recruits went missing," Paden said. "Wilmod and Keran? They were last seen here."

Viveka narrowed her eyes at Paden. "We make a lot of coin off nervous Templars who expect some privacy."

"I'll be discrete," Paden assured. "The Templars are the ones who want this information,"

Viveka sighed. "Let me look through the books." She went over to the bar where a large open book sat. "Wilmod…Keran…" she muttered as she scanned the pages. "Here we go. Wilmod came in here a lot." She glanced back at Paden. "You sure he had time to be a Templar?"

Paden didn't dignify that with an answer.

Viveka looked at her book again. "The both of them last saw Idunna, the 'Exotic Wonder from the East'."

"That's quite the stage name," Paden said.

"It sounds better than 'The Tramp from Darktown'," Viveka said. "You should hear what some of the others are called."

Paden would rather not. "Thank you for your help," she said.

"Sure thing. And listen, you didn't hear any of this from me. We clear?"

"Of course," Paden assured.

Viveka directed them to a room upstairs, which was open when they arrived.

Paden poked her head in and saw a woman with red hair and way too much makeup sitting at a vanity on the other side of the room.

Paden knocked lightly, and when the woman turned to see who was there, said, "Idunna, right?"

The woman stood up to face her guests. Paden got right to the point.

"Do you remember…entertaining a Templar named Wilmod a few weeks ago? Or Keran?"

"Wilmod…Wilmod?" Idunna said, making a show if giving it a lot of thought. She had a staged, sultry voice that irritated Paden. "That doesn't sound familiar," she finally decided.

"Do your clients like this charade?" Paden asked, her tone one of thinly veiled contempt. "It must get dreadfully tiresome."

Idunna sputtered for a moment, caught off guard. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, and then turned around and walked slowly over to her bed. Paden and the others came all the way into the room. Idunna sat down on her bed and stroked the covers seductively. "Questions are boring," she said. "Why don't we have some _real_ fun?"

Varric grinned as he gazed at Idunna. "Hawke, go easy on this lovely creature."

Paden looked at him. He seemed to be fixated on the whore, as if he wouldn't, or couldn't look away. "What's the matter with you?" Paden said. "We've got a job to do here."

"Right," Varric agreed. "But why not mix business with a little pleasure?"

"You should listen to your friend," Idunna said.

Paden frowned. "I'm here on business," she said firmly. "Keran. Wilmod."

"Answer one of my questions first," Idunna said, meeting Paden's eyes. Then she continued speaking slowly, almost hypnotically. "Who told you about little old me?"

Paden was sick to death of this woman's games, and was about to tell her so. She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly the words she had in mind to say were gone. She tried to say something else, but nothing would come to her. A huge pressure seemed to have been applied to her mind, and the only thought that would enter her head was Viveca's name. She tried to resist the overwhelming urge to tell Idunna what she wanted to know, since she gave Viveca her word. But the words just escaped her mouth anyway.

"It was…Viveka," she gasped, still trying to fight it, still losing the battle. "She showed me…her books."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Idunna said with a smile. She stood up from the bed. "So, Viveka sold me out, did she? That drab, pathetic little sewer rat. She will be dealt with."

The whole time Idunna was talking, Paden's mind was in a foggy bind. She could hear what the other woman was saying, but she was unable to respond in any way. Did her friends not notice?

Idunna walked over to Paden, still looking into her eyes. For all Paden's effort, she couldn't look away. "Just do one more thing for me," Idunna said. "Draw your blade…" she mimicked drawing a blade and slicing it across her own throat. Paden's hand unwittingly went to the knife at her belt. She drew it from its sheath, unable to do anything else. "…and bring it gently across your throat," Idunna finished.

Paden obeyed her, bringing her knife all the way up to her own neck. She couldn't stop herself, but surely one of her companions would be thinking something was strange by now. But no one was even making a comment about it.

Then Paden felt the cool steel of the blade against her skin and she knew she had to do something to stop this. Idunna must have been using some kind of magic to control her. Mind control spells could be broken if the victim had enough willpower to withstand them. Realizing that one was under a mind control spell was the first step, and Paden had already accomplished that. So she focused, putting all her willpower into her one desire of removing the knife from her throat.

"I will not…be toyed with!" she exclaimed, and at the same time yanked her blade away from her neck. Idunna jumped back in alarm, the spell broken.

"How did you? Oh shit…" She fell to her knees. "Spare me, messere."

Paden glanced at the others and noticed that they seemed disoriented, as if they had fallen asleep and were only just waking up. They must have been under the same spell. That's why no one came to her rescue.

She glared at Idunna. "What foul magic was that?" she demanded.

Idunna bowed her head. "Blood and desire in equal measure," she answered. "An art I learned from…elsewhere."

"Blood magic then," Paden said, her anger building.

"Yes, messere. Please, don't kill me."

"You're going to answer all my questions," Paden said, clenching her fists to keep herself steady. "And if there's even a _hint_ of magic…"

"Tarohne put me here," Idunna replied willingly. "To send biddable Templar recruits to the sanctuary. Three Spear Alley, in the Undercity. I enchanted Wilmod and Keren weeks ago. But after they left these walls, I know not what came of them. Please, let me live. It's not my fault. It was all Tarohne's idea."

"Tell me about Tarohne," Paden demanded, her fist still clenching her knife tightly.

"She put me up to this," Idunna insisted. "She said we could recreate the ancient Imperium. That mages could rule again, not serve. She says the Templars cannot hold against us if we stand up and fight."

Paden clenched her jaw and glanced back at Anders. He looked disgusted. This was just the kind of behavior that was sure to bring the Templars down even harder on all mages. Nothing good could come out of a cause like this. Not to mention that it was all being accomplished with blood magic. This little resistance cell needed to be wiped off Kirkwall's map, the sooner the better.

"This base of yours. How many other mages are there? Any other defenses?"

"People go in and out all the time," Idunna said. "Sometimes a handful, sometimes more. There are traps—magical traps. There's a hidden switch at the front. It turns them off. That's all I know."

Paden looked down at the blood mage and quickly contemplated what she should now do with Idunna. This woman had lured at least two innocent young men to horrific ends, was a collaborator in an evil plot to overthrow the Templars and the chantry, and was also a blood mage, which made her a very dangerous and unpredictable individual. If the Templars knew about her they would execute her immediately, or else make her tranquil. But she would be better off dead.

Idunna had told Paden everything she knew, willingly, probably hoping it would save her life. But there was nothing that would save her life now, because there was no way Paden would let her go free. The angry side of her wanted to kill Idunna herself, and the merciful side of her wanted to kill her to keep her from being made tranquil. Since both sides agreed, Idunna's fate was sealed. She came forward with the knife.

Iduna put her hands out in front of her and shook her head, eyes wide with fear. "No, please don't kill me," she begged.

"I'm sorry, you're just too dangerous to be kept alive," Paden said.

Idunna stood up quickly. "No. No…" she begged. But Paden made it quick, running the knife into Idunna's chest. Warm blood spilled onto her hand, and her stomach nearly rebelled. Iduna gasped, eyes widening before rolling back into her head. She sank to the floor. Paden let her fall and then stood there looking down at her, the bloody knife in her hand.

She felt sick and horrified, and strangely justified all at once.

She had killed many people, but only ever in self defense. Had she done the right thing? She had been so sure of herself before committing the act, but now she wasn't as confident. Her hands began to tremble and she dropped the knife as she stared down at Idunna's body.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She could smell the familiar scent of herbs and tallow that always seemed to accompany Anders.

"She would have killed you," he said softly. "She tried to kill you. She would have killed many others. You did what had to be done."

Paden drew a ragged breath and nodded, trying to convince herself of those facts again.

Varric picked up Paden's knife, wiped the blood off on the edge of the bed, and then handed it back to her. "Let's go, Hawke. We need to find this sanctuary, and some answers."

Paden felt a little better knowing that her friends supported her decision. She nodded. "Yes, let's go," she said, her voice catching in her throat. She put her knife away and left the room and the brothel as quickly as she could.

Once she was outside in the fresh air she stopped in the street and took several deep breaths. "Let's please never go back in there again," she said.

The men stood behind her silently, giving her the time and space she needed for a moment to compose herself. But finally she cleared her throat and turned to face them.

"I know where Three Spear Alley in Darktown is," Anders said. "We can go there right now if you're ready."

Paden glanced at the sky to note the time of day. It was still several hours before dark. She nodded. "We might as well. No point in putting it off." She could use the distraction anyway. Otherwise she would probably just end up brooding over what she had just done.

—

Three Spear Alley wasn't too far from Anders' clinic. In fact, he probably walked by there often in his comings and goings. The only problem was it was a long, winding alley with many doors coming off it. They still had to find the exact location of the blood mage sanctuary.

"I wonder if these are the same blood mages that Athenril was trying to trade with," Carver said.

Paden considered that. "If so, then I am happy to have the chance to pay them back."

They went along carefully, checking each door for signs of the magical traps that Idunna had mentioned. Anders apparently had skill in detecting such things. He placed his hands on each door and concentrated for a moment. Then he would shake his head and they would move on to the next.

"How did you acquire this skill anyway?" Paden asked as she watched him move his hands lightly across a closed door. "It's an unusual skill for a mage to have."

"I learned it out of necessity," Anders answered, not taking his attention from the door. "In the Circle Tower, magic and enchantments were used all the time to lock doors and windows, and to create barriers across forbidden areas. Sometimes, if repeated break-ins were attempted, they would set magical traps to catch the perpetrators—nothing lethal—but still, you wouldn't want to be caught."

Paden arched an eyebrow. "You were caught in one, I assume? And discovered?"

Anders glanced at her over his shoulder and quirked a wry smile. "More than once, until I learned what to look for." He stood back from the door. "This one's clean; let's move on."

They continued down the corridor and Paden frowned as she looked up at him. "How did you get yourself caught in one of those traps?" she asked.

"By trying to climb through a window on the third level of the Tower," Anders said. "I used it to escape through twice, and I guess they finally caught on."

"A _third_ _floor_ window?" Paden said, looking at him incredulously.

Anders shrugged. "It had a broken lock."

"Yes, but how did you get down?"

"The Circle Tower wasn't a _real_ prison, you know? I had access to all kinds of things to use for climbing. In this case I used a combination of short ropes and sheets tied together."

"The old climbing out the window using bedsheets trick," Varric said, shaking his head and grinning. "I can't believe that worked twice."

"As vigilant as Templars are, it's amazing what you can get away with around them," Anders said. He paused at another door and rested his hand on it lightly. After a moment, he opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "There is magic behind this door," he said. "I can feel it strongly. There are a lot of mages in there somewhere."

Paden came forward and tried the door latch. It opened easily. She waited, but nothing happened. She frowned at the others, having expected some sort of explosion or something. She took a step forward but Anders grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back.

"Wait, there is a trap here, somewhere," he said. "I can feel it. Look for the switch she mentioned."

Paden glanced around at the sides of the door and on the walls. Finally she noticed a small lever near the floor. She pressed it with her foot and they heard a mechanical noise, as of something disengaging. Paden glanced back at Anders.

The healer nodded. "Yes, I think that worked. But we should go carefully. Who knows what this many blood mages have summoned to defend themselves."

"You mean we might encounter more demons?" Paden asked.

"Chances are there will be many more. I wish I had had the time to teach you that spell to deflect their magic."

"So do I," Paden said. "I guess I'll just stick close to you then."

"What about us non-mages?" Carver asked.

"You aren't as susceptible to a demon's influence," Anders said. "And are less likely to be a target. A demon will go after a mage first every time. Your sister and I are at our most vulnerable when encountering demons." He looked at Paden. "Just remember, a strong will is your best defense."

Paden nodded, and then they set out down the passageway that had been revealed beyond the door. It twisted and turned, going up one set of stairs and down another. Eventually it opened into a large, empty room. The moment they entered Paden felt the air tingle like static electricity.

Paden and Anders both took their staffs into their hands and assumed defensive stances back to back. Carver and Varric followed suit simply on impulse, even though there was no apparent sign of danger, since they couldn't sense the presence of the demons like the mages could.

But demons there were. And a moment later they revealed themselves, rising up out of the floor on all sides of the room. There were at least six shades. Though after that initial estimation, Paden didn't bother keeping track, though she was sure more joined the fight later, since their numbers didn't seem to decrease, even after killing some.

Paden and Anders remained fighting at each others' side, throwing ranged spells across the room to take out the demons before they got too close. Varric remained by the door to the room, using Bianca from a distance; while Carver took a defending position near his sister, drawing any attacks that might have been directed at her. Anders' comment about Paden being at her most vulnerable right now must have struck a chord in him.

But after the last two fights where Paden hadn't been allowed to use her magic, she felt particularly powerful now, casting spell after spell, and using fireballs and lightning bolts like it was her last chance to ever do so.

A few times during the battle Paden ran low on strength, and had a difficult time drawing power from the fade. She still wasn't used to using her powers this way, and her skills weren't honed enough for continuous use in battle. That's why she had bought the lyrium potion, to augment her powers. But in this fight, whenever she started feeling weak, a wash of cool power would flow through her and she would feel energized again. She had felt that the first time she had fought along side Anders in the Chantry, and wondered if it was he who was doing it, and what exactly he was doing. Fighting along side another mage in a real battle was a new experience for her. She didn't really know what to expect.

Whatever was happening, though, she was grateful, as she was able to make it through the entire battle without falling. They managed to defeat all the demons, and then they took a moment to rest and catch their breath.

"Was that you doing that?" Paden asked Anders.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Me doing what?"

"In the battle, whenever I would grow weak, I would suddenly regain my strength."

"Oh, yes, I suppose that was me," Anders admitted. "It's second nature, I don't even think about it really."

"What exactly are you doing?" Paden asked.

He looked at her, surprised she didn't know. "Well, I just transferred some of my power to you is all."

"But don't you need it?"

Anders shrugged. "You needed it more. It's a basic healer's skill. I learned it a long time ago, and it's just an impulse now, whenever I feel another mage's powers growing weak, I give them a little help."

"But don't you ever run out of strength yourself?"

"If the battle is especially long and I have to use extra powerful spells or do any healing, yes," Anders said. "But that hardly ever happens."

Paden considered that and then gave him a grateful smile. "Well, thank you," she said.

Anders gestured ahead of them. "We should get going," he said.

Paden agreed and they set out again, working their way through the passages. They came to a particularly narrow tunnel, and when they reached the midway point Paden felt the static in the air again.

"Not again," she groaned, and brought her staff around.

A shade rose up from the ground at each end of the tunnel, blocking both passages.

"Oh, that's too easy," Carver called as he rushed forward to meet the one ahead of them. Varric turned Bianca on the one that was coming up behind. Anders helped Varric while Paden protected her brother. The two shades were gone in moments, and no more took their place.

Carver rejoined them, rubbing a hand across his face. "That black smoke they put out stings! Is there a way to avoid it?"

"Not for you, unfortunately," Anders said. "But I know a cleansing spell if you're interested."

"Does it work?"

Anders arched an eyebrow at him. "Of course it works."

Carver stood straight and spread his arms slightly, palms out. "All right, then, cleanse away."

Anders made a gesture at Carver with both hands, and a faint glow emanated from his palms. Then a similar glow swirled around Carver briefly, and Anders lowered his hands. "There," he said. "Feel better?"

Carver focused on the stinging feeling for a moment and then smiled slightly. "It's gone," he said. "Hey, you're sort of handy to have around."

"Oh yes, mages are useful as long as they're serving," Anders said. "Glad there's one thing about me you don't hate."

"Oh please," Paden intoned.

Anders spread his hands. "I'm just saying."

"Let's get going," Paden said, and led the way forward.

The passageways continued to twist and turn for what seemed like a mile at least. Definitely a good place to hide an evil blood mage sanctuary; no Templar would bother searching this deep in the Undercity.

At last they came to another large, empty room, and even Paden could feel the magic in the place. The room was L-shaped, and when they rounded the bend they beheld a strange sight.

Suspended in the air above their heads was a man in a fetal position, seemingly frozen in place and surrounded by a swirling, glowing column of light. Paden walked up to it slowly and stared for a moment. She had never seen anything like it before.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

"It's a magical cage," Anders said. "A mage is holding this man here, but why?"

The sound of footsteps drew their attention to a doorway across from them. A woman and three men entered, all of them mages. Paden turned to face them, and the woman approached, a sinister smile on her face.

"How wonderful. More vessels for our experiments," she said, her voice just as sinister as her smile. There was something not quite normal about it. "Perhaps the demons will find one of you suitable."

Anders shook his head. "Always the demon thing. Can't you people say 'no'?"

The woman—Paden guessed her to be Tarohne—scowled at Anders. "I am not some hopeless waif that ran crying to a demon," she spat. "I sought them out and embraced them!"

Paden exchanged a glance with Anders and he rolled his eyes. She glanced up at the man in the magical cage, and then back to Tarohne. "Why have you taken the recruits?" she asked. "Where is Keran?"

"Demons can inhabit much more than mages and corpses," Tarohne answered. "With assistance, they can control anyone I ask. Any Templar…any noble…any well-meaning meddler."

Paden narrowed her eyes at the blood mage. "That's a new one. No one's ever threatened to possess me with a demon before. You do know we cut a path through your abominations, right?"

Tarohne laughed. "Good, good, the demons like spirit."

"So that's what you do here?" Paden said, glancing around the room. "You possess people with demons, why? What does that accomplish?"

"If a few more Templars fall to the demons, we can seed chaos in their ranks," Tarohne said. "How many abominations can they discover amongst their own before it drives the Knight-Commander crazy?" She spoke with such enthusiasm and glee, as if she were a child set loose in a pastry shop. Only she was a demon and the pastries were people.

On a roll, Tarohne didn't stop there. "In days of old, the Tevinter Imperium spanned the known world. Demons were their allies—held in check by power and knowledge." The more she talked the louder and more excited her voice became. "With a wave of a hand I could do more than a Templar can achieve in a lifetime. Yet they command us? Absurd! _We_ should be ruling them. We should rule you all!"

Paden sighed and shook her head. "Good to know you're barking mad, that makes things easier." Not like it had been with Iduna. No, there were no gray areas in this situation; it was very black and white. She would feel no qualms about ridding the world of Tarohne and her kind. And it also made her feel better about Iduna's fate at her hand as well.

Paden took her staff into her hand and glanced back at Carver. He gave her a slight nod and unsheathed his sword.

Tarohne brought her staff into her hand as well and assumed a defensive stance. "Kill the vessels only if you must!" she shouted to her men as they came forward to take Paden and the others into custody.

"We're not going with you that easily," Paden said. She conjured a fireball and threw it at the approaching blood mages. One burst into flames and writhed on the ground in screaming agony while the other was thrown backward against the wall, also in flames, but he did not move. Just as the fireball left Paden's hand, she switched her staff and threw a lightening bolt at Tarohne with her other hand.

But the blood mage threw up a spell shield just in time, and Paden's lightening was absorbed harmlessly. By this time Carver was already out ahead of Paden, easily cutting down Tarohne's two other accomplices.

Just as Paden was starting to think this fight was too easy, abominations and a demon appeared from somewhere and began attacking them with magic. In the fight that followed, Paden lost sight of Tarohne. The blood mage had snuck to the other side of the room, and Paden noticed her just as Tarohne's spell shield collapsed.

Paden threw a fireball toward the blood mage, but she was out of range by now and it fizzled out before reaching her.

"Don't let her get away!" she shouted to her companions as she ran toward Tarohne. Both Carver and Varric broke off from the fights they were having and came to Paden's aid. As she came within range again, Paden threw another fireball at Tarohne, but again the blood mage threw up a spell shield just in time.

"For the love of Andraste!" Paden swore in frustration. She threw a couple lightening bolts at Tarohne anyway to let off steam, but of course the spell shield absorbed them. And then a shade was on her, swiping at her with its huge claws. Paden sidestepped the demon and threw two consecutive fireballs at it, and then put some distance between it and herself. Carver cut it down seconds later.

Then Tarohne's shield went down again, but before Paden could make another move, the blood mage cast a very strong repulsing spell. Paden felt it hit her like a brick wall and she blacked out momentarily. Sounds became muffled, all except for a persistent ringing in her ears. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins and heart throbbing like it might burst through her ribs. The world was a spinning confusion of black and white spots, and all she could do was lie still for a moment and wait for everything to settle.

The next thing she knew was the light touch of a hand on her shoulder, sending the tingle of magic through her body. Her head began to slowly clear and she opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground up against a wall, several yards from where she had been standing.

"Hawke, are you all right?"

Paden looked up to see Anders crouching beside her. She nodded carefully and glanced around, looking for Tarohne. "Don't let her get away," said, trying to sit up. Anders left her side and Paden glanced around for her other companions. Varric was lying on his back a few feet away from her, rubbing his eyes; and Carver was on the other side of the room, sitting on the ground with his hands pressed to his temples.

Paden pulled herself to her feet and forced her eyes to focus on the far side of the room where Anders was casting a spell at Tarohne as he closed the distance between them. Paden didn't recognize the spell, but whatever it was it froze Tarohne in place. Then Anders swung his staff, striking the blood mage in the head with the blunt end once, twice, and then he spun the staff around and ran the long bladed end clean through her stomach. Tarohne's eyes bulged and she grunted in pain before collapsing to her knees. Then she toppled to the side and lay still.

Anders bent down and pulled the blade from her body, then turned around to face the others. All three of them gaped at him in shock.

"Where'd you learn how to fight like that, Blondie?" Varric asked.

"Not exactly a common skill for mages," Carver agreed.

"I want to learn it," Paden quipped.

Anders smiled slightly, and if Paden wasn't mistaken she thought she saw a blush touch his cheeks. "Well, I guess serving with the Wardens was good for something, right?" he said.

Before they could comment further, a bright flash of light came from the magical cage and it collapsed. The man who had been trapped inside fell to the floor. Paden and the others rushed to his side.

He was a young man—maybe Carver's age—with short blond hair, and dressed in nothing but a pair of breeches. Paden crouched down and rested a hand on his shoulder. He groaned in response and turned his head to look at her.

"Is…is it over?" he asked.

"Keran?"

The young man attempted to get to his feet, and Paden grabbed his arm to help him.

"Yes, that's my name," he said, bending his head from side to side and rubbing his neck as if it were sore. "Oh, thank the Maker. I thought he had abandoned me."

"We've been looking for you, Keran," Paden said.

"But, is it only Keran?" Varric asked. "It could be Keran plus one, a very nasty plus one at that."

"That's a good point, Varric." She looked at Keran. "What do you remember about how you got here?"

"I…I was with a lady," Keran said haltingly. "And then things got fuzzy." He furrowed his brow as he tried to recall. "Nightmares then. On fire for days…a demon laughing. A naked lady with her razor claws…in my chest." He closed his eyes and clutched the sides of his head. "I'd wake and hear screams," he continued, his voice strained from intense emotions. "Maybe my own." He shook his head and dragged his hands down his face. "I'm sorry…it's all a tangle in my head."

Paden considered the young man's words for a moment. Clearly he had been tempted by a demon for days at least, but it was still unclear whether or not he submitted to it. She had no experience in how to tell if someone was possessed, so she looked to Anders for help.

"Any chance you can tell if Keran has an…extra passenger?"

Anders scratched the stubble on his chin as he looked at Keran. "Well, there's one sure way," he said, and then he threw his hands forward, shooting a small bolt of electricity at the boy.

Keran jumped backwards with a cry, but it had been a minor shock and he was not harmed. "What was that about?" he demanded.

Anders turned to look at Paden. "If there was a demon in there it would have defended itself. Looks like he's clear."

Paden let out a soft sigh and then gave Keran a smile. She was very glad she didn't have to run a knife through him as well.

"So…what happens now?" Keran asked.

"Go ahead and leave, Keran," Paden said. "You've been through enough."

"Don't tell the Templars," Keran begged. "Please, I don't know what they'd do to me. Just tell them I'm all right? Tell my sister I'm all right."

Paden nodded. "You have my support, Keran, don't worry."

"Oh, thank you," Keran said, huge relief in his voice. "What is your name, messere? I am in your debt."

"It's Hawke," Paden said. "Maker go with you, Keran."

They watched the young man leave the way they had come in, and once he was gone, Paden sat down on the ground, leaning her back against the wall. She sighed deeply and buried her face in her hands, feeling emotionally and physically drained. There had to be a better line of work.

"Hey, Hawke, are you all right?" Varric asked.

Paden nodded, then rubbed her hands down her face and looked up at the ceiling. "Yes, I'm fine," she said softly.

Anders crouched in front of her and rested a hand on her knee. She felt the gentle tingle of magic rush up her leg from his hand and into every corner of her body, soothing away her aches and clearing the cobwebs from her mind.

"How do you feel?" he asked, looking into her eyes with concern.

Paden gave him a grateful smile. "Better now," she said.

Anders shifted position, sitting on the ground next to her, his back against the wall. "When you talk to Ser Cullen, maybe downplay the blood magic angle? We don't need the Templars cracking down even harder."

Paden nodded. "I agree. This one was a close one to be sure. I'm just glad we were able to get to Keran before it was too late."

Carver crouched down in front of Paden, resting his arms on his knees. "I never…I never understood why people could be so terrified of mages," he admitted haltingly. "Our family had three; Father, you…Bethany…" he swallowed and glanced away, eyebrows knit with sadness. "But this…" he shook his head as he gazed at the spot where the magical cage had been. "Andraste was right to warn against magic."

Paden frowned at him. "Tarohne made a choice to practice blood magic," she said. "Most mages are good people."

"You don't think I know that?" Carver said. "It's just that I never really thought about their side. Now I see."

"What do you see, Carver? That Templars are right? You know, mages are no different from a trained warrior with a sword or an archer with a bow. Those kinds of weapons in the hands of a lunatic are just as dangerous."

"Except only mages are locked away for what they _might_ do," Anders added.

"I know that already," Carver said, growing frustrated and defensive. He stood up and took a few steps away. "I've just never had to think about all this before. All we've ever done is hide from Templars. I'd never met any bad mages before, I couldn't understand the use for Templars. Now I'm starting to see it, that's all."

Paden looked up at her brother in silence for a moment, wishing she could go over to him, wrap her arms around him and hold him close and convince him that what the Templars do is not a solution to the problem. But she couldn't do that. Instead she sat where she was, staring up at him helplessly as he paced.

"Then think on this, Carver," Anders said. "Maybe it was the Templars and the Circle that caused Tarohne to resort to such drastic measures."

Carver glared at the healer. "So you think she was justified in what she was doing here?"

Anders shook his head and held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Certainly not. What Tarohne did here is unforgivable. You're right, it's mages like her that caused the original fear that made the Chantry create the Templars in the first place. But they are a minority. What of all the other mages out there who would live normal, happy lives of peace if they were only allowed to? I'm sure even Tarohne was a good person once. But she was a desperate person. Desperate for freedom. And sometimes normal people will resort to drastic measures to gain freedom." He paused and looked down at his hands. "I can identify with her in that respect, without condoning her methods."

"It's a vicious cycle," Varric said softly. "Templars exist to control bad mages, but good mages become bad in order to escape the Templars." He shook his head. "Can it ever end?"

"It has to end," Anders said, staring at the wall across the room. "Somehow it has to end."

Carver scratched the back of his neck for a moment and then announced, "I'm going home. I've had enough of this place." And with that he turned and walked out the door.

Paden stared at the open doorway in silence, not sure what to think or feel. So much had happened that day, she felt pretty numb. Anders finally stood up, and then offered his hand to Paden. She took it and he helped her to her feet. "You still have to go back to the Gallows and tell Cullen," he reminded.

Paden sighed. "Yes, there is that," she said, not hiding the dread she felt.


	21. An Uncertain Understanding

**A/N:** I am sorry that this chapter is so short. My muse has been kinda silent as I get through these canon scenes. But next week I will be posting a completely original chapter about Paden and Anders. It's nice and long, and one of my favorites so far. So stay tuned for that!

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**An Uncertain Understanding**

Anders and Varric offered to go with Paden to the Gallows to face Ser Cullen. Paden was grateful, but she wished Carver hadn't stormed off home. She liked having him at her side, especially in situations where she felt vulnerable. And nowhere did she feel more vulnerable than in the Gallows talking to the Knight-Captain of the Templars. But at least she wasn't completely alone.

At the docks they got in line for the ferry to take them across the harbor, and as they neared the gangplank, Paden noticed Carver leaning against a post, waiting for them.

"Carver?" Paden said, frowning slightly. "I thought you went home."

"You know I can't let you face the Knight-Captain alone, right?"

Paden smiled slightly. "Get on board, you," she said.

They went to the front of the boat and took seats on various cargo crates. Paden deliberately sat on the same crate beside Carver, while Anders and Varric sat some distance behind them on two smaller crates. Once they were underway, Paden glanced at her brother and nudged him in the side with her elbow.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm glad you came."

He didn't respond, but just stared out at the waves ahead of them.

Paden sighed softly. "Listen, Carver, I didn't mean to shut you down earlier. I guess I got defensive. I felt like you were attacking me."

"I wasn't," Carver said, an obvious stiffness in his posture.

"I know that," Paden assured. "I realize you were just trying to make sense of the conflicting thoughts you were having, and I get that. I don't…I don't want to discourage you if you ever feel like you need to talk, about anything."

Carver scoffed lightly. "We don't talk, Sister."

"I know," Paden said softly. "Sometimes I regret that, though."

He looked at her in surprise, and then quickly down at his hands. Neither of them said anything more after that, as it was, they had both said much more that day than they usually allowed between them. But Paden hoped that Carver would take her words to heart.

After disembarking the ferry, they went through the great southern gate into the Gallows. Paden recognized Macha, Keran's sister, waiting by one of the huge statues that stood on either side of the gate. Before Paden could approach her, Macha ran forward into the courtyard, and that's when Paden noticed Knight-Captain Cullen and Keran—now in full uniform—coming out from under the arcade on the edge of the courtyard. Macha ran into her brother's arms for a lengthy embrace as Paden and the others approached. Paden caught Ser Cullen's eye and he turned from the happy reunion to meet them.

"I have good news and bad news," Paden said. She gestured to the still embracing siblings. "Good news, right here." Then she sighed softly and shook her head. "The bad news is that blood mages have infiltrated your ranks, and have been implanting your recruits with demons."

"Sweet blood of Andraste," Cullen exclaimed.

"Demons?" Macha said, pulling away from her brother. She took a couple fearful steps back from him. "Did you say something about the recruits and demons?"

"I didn't want to tell you, Macha," Keran said. "They…they were horrible." He looked at Paden. "Those mages see the rest of us as ants to be crushed. They won't stop until they've destroyed the Chantry and the Templars forever."

Paden frowned at him. "Not all mages are like that," she said, unable to stop herself.

"Sister, not now," Carver warned.

"True, not every mage gives into temptation," Cullen said. "But none of them are ever free of it. At any time any mage could become a monster. From the lowest apprentice to the most seasoned enchanters."

Paden clenched her fists and her jaw as her steady green gaze remained locked on Cullen's, warning him with a look that he should stop talking. But he kept going.

"Mages can _not_ be treated like people. They are not like the rest of us."

Paden's brow was deeply furrowed by now, and she opened her mouth to retort, but Macha spoke first.

"Surely that's a little harsh," she said.

A little harsh? Paden felt like wringing Cullen's neck. He knew she was a mage, how could he just stand there and say those things to her face? She wasn't worthy of being treated like a person? What did he think she was, an animal?

"They are weapons," Cullen said to Macha. "They have the power to light a city on fire in a fit of peak."

"So does anyone with a match," Paden said, forcing her tone to remain civil. Cullen opened his mouth to argue, but Paden spoke over him. "There's fault on both sides," she said, her voice quivering slightly from the effort it took to keep her temper at bay. "We must find a way to live in peace."

Cullen regarded her for a lengthy moment, and Paden did not take her eyes from his. "Perhaps you're right," he allowed. "Perhaps mages need better education as to why the Chantry functions as it does. Perhaps they would not go against the will of Andraste herself. I will look into it."

Paden let out a tense breath and glanced at Carver. He looked at her and gave a slight nod of approval. Cullen turned to his recruit.

"For now, Keran, unless it is proven you are free of demons, I must strip you of your commission immediately."

Macha moved to her brother's side and grabbed his arm. "No, you can't really think that. Keran is fine, he's safe."

"Please, Ser," Keren begged. "I tried to resist. I never took anything they offered. I…I need this position or my sister can't eat. I've been training for five years."

Cullen sighed and gave Paden a questioning look over his shoulder. Did he want her opinion? Why should he care or even trust what she thought?

"We conducted tests on Keran," she said vaguely. "He's not possessed. He can stay in the Order."

Cullen turned to face her with a wary expression. "I hesitate to asked what methods you used that you are so certain."

Paden narrowed her eyes at him. _You know why I'm certain_, she thought.

He looked at her a moment and then said, "Still…you have done much for us by stopping these blood mages. I will heed your request. If he has shown no sign of demonic possession in ten years time, Keran will become eligible for full knighthood."

"Thank you, serah, again," Macha said, stepping closer to Paden. "But… without a full knighthood Keran's pay is so small. I do not know if I can reward you as you deserve." She bowed her head apologetically.

"I will handle that, Miss," Cullen said as he came forward. He handed Paden a small leather pouch. "You have done the order a great service. We will _not_ forget it."

This close to him Paden could see the hazel in his eyes. Hers narrowed as she tried to figure out what he meant by that.

"Thank you again, serah Hawke," Keran said, and gave her a slight bow. Then he and his sister left, heading back to the Templar quarters.

Cullen met Paden's eyes one last time, and then followed. She and the others stood under the edge of the arcade and watched the Knight-Captain leave. Paden's anger had simmered down by then and her fists relaxed.

"That was a close one," Carver said, wiping a hand across his brow. "You nearly got us all arrested."

"How do you figure?" Paden asked, turning to face her brother. "He already knows I'm a mage. If he wanted to arrest me don't you think he would have done it by now?"

"Unless he plans on sending a few knights out tomorrow to arrest you at your house, along with the rest of your family," Anders said.

Paden shot a glare at him. "Oh great, now I won't be getting any sleep tonight, thank you very much."

Anders spread his hands. "I'm just saying."

"What do you suppose he meant when he said they won't forget what you did for them?" Varric asked. "Think it means you're no longer under scrutiny?"

"That's what it better mean," Paden said, clenching her fists again. "Else I'm going to regret saving the Templar Order today." She sputtered a bitter laugh. "That's what I did, isn't? I saved the Templar Order. Maker, what's wrong with me?" She shook her head and turned to leave the Gallows, tossing the coin purse to Carver as she did so.

"Four sovereigns!" he exclaimed after dumping the contents into his hand.

Paden quirked a wry smile. "Grateful indeed," she said. "I just wish I knew where I stood with him. That he would just come out and say, 'I realize you're a mage, but since you saved my life I'm going to pretend you're not and won't ever tell anyone.' What does he gain by being vague and elusive?"

Anders shook his head. "He's probably doing it for his own sake," he said. "So he doesn't have to outwardly admit he's helping a mage."

"Even one that saved his life? And it's not like he has to tell the Knight-Commander about it."

Anders shrugged slightly. "Something must have happened to him in Ferelden during Uldred's uprising. He never used to talk about mages that way. He was one of the few Templars in the Tower I actually liked. He was always kind to me, and turned a blind eye more than once."

Paden sighed as they reached the ferry dock. "Well, I'm just glad it's over with."

"Yes, and let's please not involve ourselves in Templar affairs again?" Carver said.

Paden quirked a smile. "You've got yourself a deal, Brother."


	22. Of Rain and Flowers

**A/N:** I apologize for the length of this chapter. I like how long it is, but if you don't, then take it up with Paden and Anders, because they're the ones who wrote it. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Thank you everyone for your wonderful, wonderful reviews, I love reading them!

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Of Rain and Flowers**

Paden laid awake for much of that night, scenes and conversations from earlier in the day chasing each other around her head unceasingly, like a hound never managing to catch up with the elusive fox.

The morning dawned wet and gray. A misty rain blew in from the sea, and Paden pulled a hood down low as her boots squished in the mud on her way to the Hanged Man. The weather was perfect to match her mood.

The tavern was nearly empty so early in the morning, with only a couple resident drunks swapping lies in the corner. Paden took her cloak off and laid it on the bar, then she plopped herself down on a stool and motioned for the barkeep.

"Hawke," Corff said in surprise as he came over, wiping his hands on a rag. "Don't usually see you in here so early."

Paden smiled grimly. "It's one of those days, Corff."

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Just give me something strong, I don't care what."

"Coffee then?"

Paden gave him a long-suffering look.

Corff sighed and rested his hands on the bar. "Hawke, are you sure? You're not a morning drinker."

Paden took several coppers out of her pocket and tossed them on the bar. "Do you want my coin or not?" she asked.

Corff sighed and took the coins, then he left to get her drink.

"No coffee!" she called after him. Then she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned heavily on them. She absently scratched at the worn wood with her fingernail, scraping off a thin layer of black grime that had accumulated over the years. Corff returned and set a mug of ale in front of her, but she didn't take her eyes off her fingers.

"Hawke, what a surprise to see you here this early," a familiar voice said from behind her.

"Hello, Varric," Paden mumbled. She glanced up at her mug and then wrapped her fingers around the handle, pulling it closer to her.

Varric pulled himself up onto the stool beside her, and Paden could feel his gaze on her.

"You all right, Hawke?" he finally asked.

Paden shrugged one shoulder. "I suppose not. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Do you…want to talk about it?" Varric asked hesitantly.

Paden glanced at him and then took a sip of her ale. It was bitter, and she grimaced as it went down, igniting a line of fire from her tongue to her empty stomach.

"Not really," she replied to the dwarf. How could she talk about everything she was feeling? How could she sort out her thoughts well enough to even get them past her lips?

"All right," Varric said, and they sat at the bar in silence for several minutes while Paden nursed her drink.

After a while Varric took out a deck of cards and began shuffling them to keep busy. Paden watched the dwarf's stubby fingers as they cut the deck, positioned each stack, bending them just so, and then letting them fan out smoothly between his fingers, as if he had done it a million times before—which he probably had. It was a wonderful distraction, since Paden's card shuffling skills left much to be desired. Varric made it look so easy.

"Hey, I got a possible job for you," he said. "I meant to tell you yesterday, but with everything else…well, I just forgot."

"What kind of job?" Paden asked.

Varric chuckled lightly. "Believe it or not, it's another missing person case."

Paden finally glanced at the dwarf, incredulous. "I'm not really in the mood for jokes, Varric."

"No joke," the dwarf assured. "Some woman missing her son."

Paden blew a forceful breath out between pursed lips, then she took a sip of her ale. "Another missing person," she mused softly. "Seems like the only kind of work we can find lately." She held out one hand, as if framing a sign on the far wall. "Hawke, Hawke & Tethras, Investigative Services."

Varric chuckled. "Sounds more interesting than Hawke's Secondhand Goods."

Paden wrapped her hands around her mug and stared down at her dark reflection in the ale. "I don't know," she said softly. "I rather like the idea of Hawke's Secondhand Goods."

"It would be terribly boring," Varric assured.

"I don't think so. In fact, it sounds ideal right now. Chasing after bandits, smuggling lyrium, rescuing kidnapped children…" she shook her head. "That's not for me. I'm not cut out to be an adventurer, Varric, and I'm definitely not a hero. I'm Paden. A simple name not meant to go down in history."

Varric didn't answer that right away as he ran a finger gently along the edge of the deck of cards. Paden stared into her mug, and the rain continued to fall outside.

"Heroes don't make themselves, Hawke," he finally said. "And in my experience the true heroes are the ones that never asked for the title. You do what you have to do to survive, and let history be your judge." He shrugged and shuffled the deck again.

Paden considered his words. As true as they might be, they didn't help her feel any better about her life in the moment. She drained her mug and then held it out toward the barkeeper, motioning for him to bring her another one.

"Hawke, do you really think that's a good idea?" Varric asked.

"It's a great idea," Paden answered, and motioned to Corff again when he didn't come over right away."Hey, Corff, can I get some service over here?" she called.

Corff sighed and came over, placing both hands on the bar and making no move to take her empty mug. "Hawke, you're not a drinker—especially not in the morning.

"I am too a drinker," Paden argued. "I drink all the time."

Both Corff and Varric laughed.

"What? What's so funny?" Paden demanded.

"Hawke, you are no drinker, trust me," Varric said. "I've never seen you have more than two ales at a time."

"So, I've had one," Paden said, holding up her empty mug, then she shoved it at Corff. "Now give me my second one."

Corff stared at her, but still made no move to take the mug.

Just then the front door opened and a man in a dark gray cloak hurried in, his hood pulled low, but Paden recognized Anders' black lace-up boots. He pulled his hood back and smiled when he saw her at the bar.

"There you are," he said. "I've been looking for you."

"Good, Blondie, maybe you can talk some sense into her," Varric said.

"What's going on?" Anders asked as he came to stand beside Paden.

"They won't let me have another drink," Paden complained.

"She's in the sort of mood where one drink can turn into five faster than you can say 'nug's uncle,'" Varric said.

"Andraste alive," Paden exclaimed. "Can't a girl brood in peace?"

Anders took the mug from her hand and set it on the bar as far away from her as his reach allowed. "Come on, why don't you come with me?" he said.

"Go with you where?" Paden asked, a scowl on her face.

"To the Wounded Coast. I'm running low on some supplies and need to restock."

"The Wounded Coast, are you crazy?" She gestured to the window high above them. "It's raining."

"I know, isn't it wonderful?" Anders said with a grin. "It doesn't rain often enough in Kirkwall."

"Go with him, Hawke," Varric urged. "Some fresh air will do you good."

"It's raining," Paden said again flatly.

"Will you melt if you get wet?" Anders asked. "Come on." He took Paden's cloak off the bar and draped it over her shoulders, reaching around her to tie the strings at the base of her neck.

Paden's heart fluttered at his almost-embrace. She turned her head slightly until her nose touched the sleeve of his coat. Herbs and tallow; a scent that was quickly becoming a favorite of hers, simply because it meant comfort, safety, happiness…Anders.

All too soon he pulled away, having completed his task of securing her cloak. "Ready?" he asked her.

"No, not really," Paden said. "Why do we have to go while it's raining?"

"Why should we have to wait until it stops?" Anders countered. "The rain is a marvelous thing, Hawke." He took her hand and pulled her off the barstool.

"It's also very wet," she grumbled.

"Have fun, you two," Varric called after them as they left the tavern.

The rain was falling a little heavier than when Paden had left her house earlier. She hunched her shoulders against the wind and tugged her hood down low. Anders, however, was walking straight and unhurried as if the sun were shining. He wore his hood low, but every now and then he turned his face to the sky, allowing the raindrops to sprinkle his skin. After she noticed him doing that for the fourth time, Paden questioned him.

"Why do you keep looking up at the sky like that?"

"The rain is one of my favorite things," he said. "It's exhilarating to feel it on my skin."

"I've never found much fascination in it, to be honest," Paden said. "It's more of a bother than anything."

"That's because you grew up with rain. And in Ferelden you saw a lot of it."

"But you're Fereldan," Paden said. "You didn't see rain all the time like I did?"

He shook his head. "I went many years in the Circle without ever feeling the rain on my skin. We weren't allowed to go outside, you see—at least never when it was raining."

Paden looked up at him in surprise. "Not allowed to go outside? Why not?"

"A greater chance for escape attempts?" Anders guessed with a shrug. "I guess a lot of that was my fault, though. The first time I escaped was when we were all out for a swim in the lake—they let us do that a few times each summer. I used the opportunity to swim away. They never let us go swimming anymore after that."

"I bet you became unpopular with the other apprentices," Paden remarked.

He gave her a wry smile. "A little bit, yes. Anyway, ever since the Tower I've sort of revered rain. It never bothers me anymore."

"Well…lucky you," Paden mumbled. They left Lowtown and took the road that followed the coast. The falling sheets of misty rain obscured the view of the water, creating a gray void that seemed to swallow up everything around it, including any positive feelings Paden might have still had. She trudged along in silence, her gaze on the muddy road before her.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Anders asked, "So what were you doing in the tavern so early?"

Paden shrugged. "Having a drink."

"Varric seemed concerned about that."

"Varric's like a mother hen sometimes," Paden replied.

"So there's nothing bothering you then?"

Paden paused for a moment and then shook her head. "I didn't say that."

Anders leaned forward so he could look around the brim of her hood. When that didn't work he reached out and lifted her hood from her face slightly. She glanced up at him in mild startlement.

"Well?" he asked. "I have an ear to listen."

She looked at his face for a moment; at the sincerity in his amber eyes, and suddenly she wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to spill her heart and soul to him, because somehow she knew he could take it, and that he wouldn't mind, and that he wouldn't judge. The burdens and guilt that had sat heavily on her shoulders for so long suddenly grew legs and were poised to spring away from her, if only she would let them.

"I've…just been bothered," she admitted softly. "About our last job mostly."

"About which part?" Anders asked.

Paden turned her palms up in a shrug. "Different parts. Most of it."

They walked on in silence for a moment as Paden gathered her thoughts, trying to put them all into words. It was not easy. It had been so long since she had expressed her feelings openly to anyone. Anders waited patiently, not rushing her.

Finally Paden decided she would just plunge in at the beginning. "Have you ever…killed anyone?" she asked. "I mean…with a knife?"

When he didn't answer right away, she looked up at him and saw an expression of pain on his face. He glanced away from her, and Paden suddenly realized her blunder.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I wasn't thinking. Of course you have." He had killed Karl with a knife, and that had to have been ten times more painful than anything Paden had experienced recently.

Anders held up his hand. "No, its all right. I understand what you meant. And no, Karl wasn't the first person I'd ever killed with a knife."

Paden swallowed thickly and wiped the rain off her face, trudging along in silence. She could feel Anders studying her.

"Was Iduna…?"

Paden nodded. "I've killed more times than I can count, Anders. Always in protection of myself or someone else. And…always with magic."

Anders nodded. "I see."

She looked up at him, desperately searching for understanding in his eyes. Only a mage could possibly understand what she was feeling. And Anders was the only mage she knew.

"There was just something about…running that blade into her. Feeling it sink into her flesh…the blood spilling onto my hand…" Her throat stopped up and she couldn't continue. She clenched her fists at her sides and stopped walking as she shut her eyes tightly.

Anders turned to face her and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Magic has a way of distancing us from the act," he said. "Casting a spell is such a natural thing that takes almost no thought to accomplish. It's easy to get into a comfort zone in which we convince ourselves that it's the magic that is doing the killing, and not ourselves. The truth is harder to ignore when blood is soaking our hands."

Paden nodded. That was it exactly. He had summed up everything she had been feeling since that encounter with Iduna. Everything she had not been able to understand well enough to put into words herself. The relief she felt to know that she was not alone in that was immense.

"Paden," Anders said softly.

She looked up at him and met his eyes. They were filled with kindness and understanding, and her heart nearly melted at the sight.

"Regardless of how you ended Iduna's life, you did the right thing," he said. "Never doubt that. She could not be allowed to go free, and turning her over to the Templars would have ensured her death anyway—only in a much worse fashion."

Paden hung her head. "I know," she whispered. "It just…sometimes I just feel like such a bad person."

Anders hooked his finger under her chin and gently tipped her head back up to look at him. He gave her a soft, sympathetic smile. "You are a _good_ person, Hawke. The fact that you've experienced so much grief over this proves it. You _care_ about people. You give up what's yours for others—people you've only just met. You risk your life almost daily to make other people's lives better."

"For coin," Paden protested.

Anders shook his head. "Did you help Keran for coin? No. You knew there would likely be no reward, yet you did it anyway. You risked your life—risked exposure—to save a _Templar_, not for your own benefit, but for that of the stranger you met on the street. You are a glittering jewel among ashes, Hawke."

Paden blinked, and a single tear trailed down her cheek as she gazed up at him. Her chin trembled and she forced a bashful laugh, not used to such compliments. But they made her feel warm inside, and she all but forgot how cold and drenched she was.

"Paden," she said softly, not taking her eyes from his. "I like it when you call me Paden."

He gave her that lopsided smile of his that she loved so much, and his thumb stroked her cheek gently, sending a tremble to her knees.

"Paden," he said.

For a long moment they stood thus on the sandy road by the coast. Paden could not hear the whistling of the wind or the spatter of the rain for the sound of her own heart thudding in her chest.

There was no denying it. She had tried to convince herself over and over all week long that she could be "just friends" with Anders, but she knew that would never be true. Every time she was close to him the only thing she wanted was to be in his arms. To feel that safety and contentment wrapped around her, never to let her go. Did he not feel anything for her? The gentle stroking of her cheek with his thumb hinted otherwise, and when his glance shifted briefly to her lips, she knew. He felt more for her than he was letting on.

But then it was over. Anders must have realized where this moment was going, and he smiled softly, letting his hand fall to her shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Well," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "We're looking for elfroot. I'm nearly out at the clinic." He dropped his hand to his side and turned to continue their stroll.

Paden felt herself deflate, and it took her a moment to recover and catch up with him. He had obvious feelings for her, yet he would deny them both, for what reason? Out of some fear that he might hurt her some day? How could he possibly know that? Didn't she have the right to decide whether or not anything he did or said would ever hurt her? Did he think he was doing her a favor?

Paden took a few deep breaths to calm herself. For now she would just have to let it go. He obviously was not ready for that kind of relationship and she wasn't going to push him. They hadn't known each other very long, after all. She could give him the time he needed. For now she would just enjoy being in his company, because she truly, truly did.

They spent the next two hours scrambling up and down the twisted pathways among the boulders that littered the shoreline, searching for the medicinal elfroot that liked to grow there, as well as any other herbs they came across. Anders asked her about her life growing up in Lothering, and she told him a few of her happier memories. She in turn asked him about life in the Circle, and he managed to keep his recollections focused on the more lighthearted moments. She could tell it was difficult for him to do so; she could see the struggle behind his eyes. Was he fighting with Justice, insisting that he be able to recall a _good _memory from his horrible past? If so then Paden was proud of him, for he succeeded, sharing about the friends he had had, the games they used to play, the practical jokes they used to pull. Apparently he had once been a master practical joker, and almost no one he knew escaped the privilege of being one of his victims. It made Paden slightly glad she hadn't known him then.

After a while the two intrepid herb gatherers stopped to take a break in the shelter of a shallow cave that faced a sandy cove. They knelt on the dry floor and let their hoods down. Paden's hair was soaked, since her cloak was not designed for extended protection against the elements. Anders' cloak, it seemed, was better suited.

"My stomach is rumbling," Paden complained. "Too bad we don't have anything to eat. Do you think you've got enough elfroot yet? Maybe we should go back and get something at the Hanged Man."

"I still need to find a few more plants," Anders said. Then he opened the satchel he had brought to collect the herbs in, and pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle. He set it on the floor by their knees and gestured for her to open it, then continued digging in his bag.

Paden unfolded the supple leather, revealing yet another bundle wrapped in a clean white cloth. She smiled in bemusement and unwrapped the cloth, revealing two only slightly smushed sandwiches. Paden looked up at Anders in surprise.

"You packed one for me, too? Was it your plan to bring me out here all along, and not just as a way to stop me from drinking too much?"

He grinned and handed her a water flask. "Guilty as charged," he said. "I thought you could use a break from the stress of work. You've seemed under a lot of stress since I met you. I was hoping to see if there was a different side of you."

A smile spread across her face that quickly turned into a grin, and then she giggled—a sound not often heard from her lips.

Anders chuckled and pointed a finger at her. "And now I've seen the elusive creature," he said.

She laughed outright. "Creature? I'm a creature? You mean like a dragon or a bear or something?"

"No, no, not a dragon." He shook his head and his smile softened as he regarded her. "No…more like a doe; shy and beautiful."

Paden's breath caught upon hearing those words, and a blush came to her cheeks. She looked up at him, once again drawn to those wonderful, honey-colored eyes of his.

Then her stomach growled. Loudly.

She clapped a hand over it and another over her mouth as she giggled again. "I'm afraid I sound more like a dragon right now."

Anders chuckled and picked up one of the sandwiches. He handed it to her. "Better eat, before it eats you," he said.

The sandwich was good, and the company even better. She completely forgot about the wet and the chill, so focused was she on the _good time_ she was having. She hadn't had this much fun in years.

It took her only moments to devour the sandwich, and then she began to gather up any small rocks that were within her reach on the cave floor and stack them carefully one atop the other. She turned them this way and that, fitting them together strategically for optimum balance.

"What are you doing?" Anders asked after watching her for a moment.

"Making a rock tower," she replied simply.

"Well, as evidenced by your skill, you've obviously done this many times before."

Paden nodded with a fond smile. "My father and I used to build these on our walks in the Wilds. Whenever we stopped to have a break, we'd leave a rock tower behind to mark the occasion."

"That's a nice tradition," Anders remarked. "And a nice memory. You and your father were very close."

Paden nodded. "He really was my best friend. I still miss him."

"How long has it been?"

"Four years." Paden glanced up and gave him a melancholy smile. "I suppose I'll always miss him, won't I?"

Anders nodded. "I still miss my mother sometimes; she and I had been close. But…it does get easier."

Paden placed a couple more rocks, and then sat back and admired her handiwork. "For you, Papa," she said softly. After a moment she glanced at Anders. He was watching her. "It's been four years since I made one of these," she said.

He gave her a soft smile, and then reached over and plucked a small flower from the grass by the cave's mouth. Then he carefully moved the top stone of the tower over a little and placed another, smaller one beside it. Last of all, he wedged the flower stem between them, and it stayed there, standing proudly as if it were still growing from the ground, it's delicate white and red petals sparkling slightly with accumulated raindrops.

"For those who can no longer be with us," Anders said.

Paden smiled as she gazed at the flower. "Now it's perfect," she said. "Do you know what this flower is called?"

"It's Andraste's Grace," Anders said. "One of my favorite flowers, actually."

"You have a favorite flower? I didn't know men had favorite flowers."

"Now how is that fair?" Anders asked playfully. "If a woman can appreciate the beauty in a sword, can not a man appreciate the beauty in a flower?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Paden said with a chuckle. "So why is it your favorite?"

"They grow all over in Amaranthine," Anders explained. "They're used to help treat Darkspawn taint."

"Really? Does it work?"

"If it's used almost immediately after contamination," Anders said. "Before the poison can circulate through the blood."

"And that's why it's your favorite?"

"No!" He wrinkled his nose at her. "You interrupted me before I could tell you why."

Paden laughed and gestured for him to continue. "I'm sorry, go ahead."

"So one day the Warden Commander's Mabari hound got into the infirmary at the Keep, chasing down Ser Pounce-a-Lot, apparently."

"Oh, that's right, your cat," Paden interrupted again. "You mentioned you had a cat with that name."

Anders arched an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry, sorry, do finish your story."

"So the healer's store of Andraste's Grace was completely ruined, and she…was…furious!" He laughed at the memory. "She banned all dogs and cats from that entire _floor_ of the keep, and gave the Warden Commander an earful."

Anders paused to take a sip from the water flask before continuing. "Anyway, so the Warden Commander, kindhearted soul that she is, took it upon herself to replace the entire stock of Andraste's Grace."

"So…that's why you like it so much?" Paden asked.

"Andraste's nickerweasles, woman!" Anders exclaimed. "Let me finish my blighted story."

Paden laughed and covered her face with her hands. "Sorry!"

Anders groaned dramatically, but Paden could see the smile in the corner of his mouth.

"Now where was I?"

"The Warden Commander replacing the ruined flowers."

"Yes, well, she dragged me along with her. Said she wasn't about to spend a day traipsing all over the countryside by herself, and that it was partially my fault anyway, since it was my cat that made her dog trash the infirmary in the first place—which is still very debatable to this day. But to make a long story short, I spent an entire day with just the Warden Commander, and I got to know her, and she got to know me—more than anyone had before. She wasn't a mage, but I felt like she really understood where I was coming from, and she didn't judge me. She was…a true friend. One of the few."

"Too bad she was married to the king, right?" Paden teased.

Anders arched an eyebrow at her, and then made a show of studying his fingernails. "True, I was quite a ladykiller back then." He gave her a wink. "But no, not the Warden Commander. She had eyes only for the king." He gave her a pointed glance. "Anyway, _that's_ why it's my favorite flower. And because it smells like honey."

Paden laughed. "You could have just mentioned its smell in answer to my question and I would have been satisfied."

"Was my story that dull?"

"No, of course not. I liked it." She leaned forward, putting her nose to the flower and inhaling its scent. "Mm, it does smell like honey. And now it's my favorite flower, too."

"Why, because of it's smell?"

Paden shook her head and leaned back on her heels. "No, because now it will always remind me of this day."


	23. Captain of the Guard

**A/N:** This is another chapter that the characters wrote themselves. Just a bit of fun. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Once again, a huge thank you to of you who have read and reviewed. I love reading what you have to say.

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Twenty-three**

**Captain of the Guard**

Anders dropped Paden off at Gamlen's apartment in the afternoon. She slogged in through the door, dripping wet, hair plastered to her head, but a contented smile on her face. Everyone looked up at her in surprise.

"What happened to you?" Carver said.

"My dear, Paden, you're soaked," Leandra exclaimed, standing up and coming over to help her daughter peel off the heavy, waterlogged cloak.

"I was out on the coast," she explained. "It only just stopped raining a few minutes ago."

"What in the Maker's name were you doing out on the coast in such weather?" Leandra asked. She took the cloak and searched the room for a place to hang it, finally opting for the back of a chair. It immediately began creating a small puddle on the floor.

"I was with Anders, helping him collect herbs for his clinic."

"Anders? You mean that mage you told me about?"

Paden nodded. "I'll go change out of these wet clothes." She headed to the bedroom.

"A letter came for you while you were gone," Gamlen announced. "I put it on the desk."

"Thank you, Uncle," Paden said with a smile. She closed the bedroom door behind her and stripped off her wet things. She was soaked to the skin; no part of her had remained dry, but she didn't care. The time out on the coast with Anders had made her love the rain, and the smile would not leave her face.

She donned a dry set of clothes and then spent a few minutes carefully combing the tangles out of her hair. A knock sounded at the door and Carver's voice came through.

"Are you decent?"

"Come in, brother dear," she said.

Carver entered the room and climbed the ladder to the bunk to retrieve a book he had left there. When he came back down he leaned against the bedpost and watched her comb her hair for a moment.

"What's gotten into you?" he said.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"You were nice to Gamlen just now. You're never nice to Gamlen."

Paden smiled and shrugged slightly. "Just in a good mood, I guess."

"What brought that on? When you left this morning you were more sour than a crabapple."

Paden shrugged again. "I just had a nice time with Anders. It felt good to do something fun for once."

"Traipsing about the coast in the rain?" Carver said, incredulous.

Paden nodded and flashed him a grin. She tied her wet hair back and then gave her brother a friendly pat on the arm before heading out to the desk and the letter that waited for her.

It was from Aveline.

_Hawke,_

_The Viscount has finally made a decision. They'll be arresting Captain Jevan in his office this afternoon. I'd like you to be there._

_Aveline_

This afternoon? That was right now! Paden dropped the letter on the desk and turned to grab her cloak, remembered it was soaked and changed her mind. "I need to go out again," she informed her family.

"But you just got home," Leandra complained.

"Aveline needs me right now," Paden explained. "I won't be gone long." And before anyone else could comment, she slipped out the door.

The rain had indeed let up, and now the clouds were breaking and small patches of blue could be seen here and there. Paden walked quickly through the city on her way to the Viscount's Keep, but still she caught herself humming snatches of a tune she couldn't fully recall; it had been so long since she had hummed anything.

This day had been nearly perfect. If only she could freeze this day in time and live it over and over—well, all but the very beginning anyway. As it was, she was reliving her time with Anders over and over in her head already. She was so caught up in it, in fact, that the watchful gazes of the guards in the Keep didn't bother her, because she didn't even notice them this time.

As she neared the barracks she could hear a commotion, and upon rounding the corner she saw two guardsmen restraining a struggling Captain Jevan by the arms.

"This was none of your affair!" he was shouting at Avaline. "I'll see you hanged, quartered! This will not stand!"

Aveline folded her arms across her chest and smiled smugly as they dragged Jevan from the room.

Paden slipped past them and approached her friend. "Not the type to go out with dignity I suppose," she remarked.

Then she noticed there was a man in the room with them. Somewhat handsome with red hair a bit darker than Aveline's. He must have been someone of importance if his expensive clothing was any indication.

"I don't think he ever had any," Aveline replied. She gestured to the man. "Hawke, meet Seneschal Bran." She looked at him. "This is the woman who helped me find out the truth about Jevan."

Bran gave Paden a nod of greeting and she returned the gesture. So this man was the chief advisor to Viscount Dumar. Paden never imagined she'd ever get the chance to meet someone so influential. Not that she sat around dreaming about such things—though she recently thought it might be exciting to one day meet the new King and Queen of Ferelden. But that was different; they were true heroes, and most leaders and noblemen couldn't claim that title if their lives depended on it. Paden quickly began to suspect that Bran was one of the latter.

"So what was Captain Jevan up to anyway?" she asked.

"We found a number of debts to…suspect peoples," Bran said, and shook his head in apparent disgust. "Such poor character." He turned his gaze to Aveline. "But you, Aveline Vallen, have proven your loyalty and ability."

Aveline bowed her head slightly. "The Guard deserves better than him, messere," she said humbly.

"Indeed," Bran said. "The Viscount would have _you_ put your care of the men into direct practice. _You_ will assume the captain's job."

"What?" Aveline exclaimed. She exchanged a shocked look with Paden.

"In due time, of course," Bran added. "There will be training, approvals…months at least. But who better to rebuild respect than the woman who exposed this…embarrassment?"

Aveline looked at Paden again, and this time she wore an almost giddy smile. Paden flashed her friend a grin, very happy for her.

"Resolve any outstanding business, Guardswoman," Bran said. "You will be very busy." He inclined his head to each of them and then left the room.

Aveline and Paden stared at his back until he was out of sight, and then Aveline, looking very stunned, turned to face the captain's big desk. Paden came to stand beside her and stroked her hand across the fine finished wood.

"Nice," she said. "Oh, look at the fancy inkhorn and quill." She plucked the writing instrument from its brass holder and swished it in the air a couple times.

Aveline snatched it from her hand and returned it to its proper place. "Don't touch anything, Hawke."

"Why not? This is all yours now."

"Not yet it isn't. I don't want to get into trouble before the job is even officially mine."

Paden waved it away as a silly worry, then she grinned at her friend. "So, Guard Captain Aveline." She chuckled lightly.

"It sounds so strange," Aveline said. "I'm glad you came, Hawke, especially now." She rubbed her forehead. "I'm still in shock."

Paden frowned slightly. "You _do _ want the position, don't you?" she asked.

"I do, it's just…so sudden, I never thought…"

"You're good at what you do, Aveline. And you'll make a good captain that the men will look up to with respect."

Aveline drew in a deep breathed and sighed it out slowly. Finally she looked at Paden and nodded slightly. "Thank you, Hawke."

"So," Paden said, unable to stop grinning. "I insist we go to the Hanged Man tonight to celebrate."

Aveline scrunched her nose. "That's not exactly my scene."

Paden laughed. "Do you even _have_ a scene, Aveline? Come on, it'll be fun. We can make it a party and invite everyone."

"Everyone? Who's everyone?"

"You know, Carver of course, and you remember Varric and Anders, right?"

"Those are your friends, Hawke; I don't know them."

"Not yet, anyway. You need more friends, Aveline. You need to get out more, have some fun! I should have made you do this a long time ago. You won't regret it, I promise."

Aveline sighed in defeat. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"Good. We'll see you tonight then." She flicked her eyes up and down Aveline's guard uniform.

"What? What's the matter?" Aveline asked.

"You have other clothes besides that armor, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Aveline said, but she didn't sound convincing. She hesitated and glanced at the floor. "My off duty uniform; tunic and trousers."

Paden nodded. "Yes, I've seen it." She sighed. "You really have nothing else?"

Aveline shrugged. "What else do I need? I live here in the barracks, and the only time I ever leave is when I'm on duty."

"Yes…" Paden said slowly. "I'll have to have a talk with you about that sometime, too. But for now I guess your off duty uniform will have be good enough, unless you'd like to borrow something of mine."

"Don't push it, Hawke," Aveline warned. "I'll go to the Hanged Man tonight, but I am _not_ dressing up."

Paden chuckled. "You think I have a closet full of fancy dresses or something?" Aveline sent her a glare and Paden held up her hands in surrender. "All right, all right." She grinned. "See you tonight, Aveline."

—

The Hanged Man was crowded that evening, so they held the party in Varric's private suite. When Aveline arrived last of all, Paden stood up and announced it dramatically.

"And here's the woman of the hour!" she said, holding her hands out toward the new Guard Captain.

The three men who had been sitting at the table stood and offered up soft applause. Aveline blushed and waved them down.

"Oh, stop it," she said, not quite achieving an annoyed expression.

Paden grinned and pulled a chair out for her friend. They all sat back down and Paden set a mug of ale in front of Aveline, then raised her own mug in the air.

"To Aveline," she said. "Friend and Guard Captain. You really deserve this, and the position couldn't have gone to a more suitable candidate. To a bright future."

"Here, here!" Carver said, and then tipped his mug back.

"Thank you, Hawke," Aveline said. "Though I don't know that I deserve all this attention."

"Nonsense," Varric said. "Everyone deserves a moment of glory now and then."

Aveline didn't respond to that, and covered her awkwardness by taking a sip of her ale. Paden could clearly see that her friend was uncomfortable, and scrambled for something to take the attention off her.

"You know, I've had this annoying little tune stuck in my head all afternoon," she said. "I can't for the life of me remember what song it's from."

"How's it go?" Anders asked.

Paden held up a finger and swished it in the air as if she were conducting an orchestra while she hummed the first part of the tune.

"Ravens on the Downs," Aveline and Carver announced in unison.

Anders snapped his fingers and pointed at them. "Yes, that's it," he agreed.

"So you all know this song and I don't?" Paden said. "It doesn't sound familiar at all, yet somehow it's stuck in my head."

"It's an old marching song," Aveline said. "One of the more popular ones too. Maybe you've heard Carver sing it before."

Carver laughed and shook his head. "Me sing? Not on your life."

"You sang the songs with the men when you were in the King's Army, didn't you?" Aveline said.

"Well, sure, but I wasn't the only one singing them then. You'd never catch me singing by myself, though."

Paden snickered and covered her mouth with her hand.

"What?" he demanded.

Paden shook her head. "You're such a liar. I've heard you sing before."

"When?"

"Remember when you were digging that new well back in Lothering? You were down inside the hole and couldn't see me. But I could hear you, singing away while you worked."

Both Varric and Anders snickered and Carver turned beet red as he fixed his eyes on the table top.

"Oh, come on," Paden chided. "I think it's nice to hear a man sing. Nothing embarrassing about it at all, right?" she said, giving pointed glances to the other men at the table.

Anders cleared his throat. "No, of course not. Nothing embarrassing about it at all."

"Certainly not," Varric agreed, though neither of them could wipe the silly grins off their faces at the image of Carver singing his heart out at the bottom of a well.

"Thanks a lot," Carver said with a glare at his sister.

As fun as it was to put Carver on the spot, she did feel a little bad that she had embarrassed him in front of their friends. So she did the only thing she could think of to make him feel better, and that was to put someone else on the spot in his place, especially someone Carver didn't like very much.

"So, Anders, you said you know that song, too?" she asked. "That one…what was it called? Ravens on the Downs?"

He nodded and put his mug to his lips. "I do," he said before taking a sip.

"But you weren't in the army, were you?"

"But I was with the Wardens, and we did an awful amount of marching for not being in the King's Army. We sang a lot of songs too."

"Are you any good at it?" Paden asked.

"What? Marching?"

Paden laughed. "Oh, come on, you know what I'm talking about."

Anders gestured like he was shooing a fly. "I don't really remember how that one goes," he assured. "And I saw what you did there, by the way," he added, pointing to Carver and then to himself.

Paden wrinkled her nose at him.

"So, with all this talk of songs, is anyone actually going to sing?" Varric asked.

"A good question, Varric," Paden said. "I would, if I only knew the song."

"I'm afraid the only ones I could suggest to you would be dwarvish drinking songs," Varric admitted with a sigh.

"I'll probably regret this," Anders said. "But I know quite a few dwarvish drinking songs."

Varric looked at Anders in surprise. "You're kidding me. You, Blondie? How in Andraste's name do you know 'quite a few' dwarvish anything?"

Anders shrugged. "There was this dwarf who was a Warden at Amaranthine. He was always drunk, and often I was too, and so there was bound to be some singing."

Varric chuckled. "Now that's something I would have paid to see. What songs do you know? Maybe I know them."

"Let me see…Five Drunken Miners…The Nug in My Bed…The Lord's Sweet Daughters…"

Varric slapped his hand on the table and pointed his finger at Anders. "The Nug In My Bed, that's a funny one."

Anders and Varric looked at each other for a moment, and then they both started singing a catchy little upbeat song about a dwarf that had issues in his love life because his pet nug refused to leave his bed. It was insanely silly, more than a little crude and somewhat offensive; all in true dwarven style. Paden didn't care so much about the song as she loved listening to the voices that were singing it. Varric had a nice deep baritone that contrasted well with Anders' mid range tenor, and surprisingly they both sang fairly well.

When the song was done the others clapped their approval. Paden whistled and sent Anders a wink. "That was brilliant," she said. "You two sound great together, are you sure you haven't done this before?"

Varric and Anders arched their eyebrows at each other. "First time, I assure you," Varric answered.

"Now you definitely have to sing Ravens on the Downs," Paden said to Anders. "It's driving me insane having it stuck in my head without knowing the lyrics."

"How about it, Carver?" Anders asked. "Care to join me?"

Carver sent a glare to Anders. "Not on your life, mage."

"Come on, Carver, be a sport," Paden begged.

"I'll start," Anders said, obviously feeling a little bolder now that the ice had been broken. "Do join in if you know it," he added to everyone.

He began singing, starting off on a low key. The tune had a cadence suitable for marching, but the lyrics were almost epic in comparison. They told a haunting tale about two brothers that were sent off to war, one leaving behind a pregnant wife. It spent two verses describing the brothers, and another three detailing their prowess in battle. Two more verses talked about the battle itself, and one verse focused on the tragic loss of one of the brothers. The final verse told how the remaining one returned home to his brother's widow to tell her the sad news.

As Anders sang, Aveline's voice quickly joined him, and then Paden hummed along, since she didn't know the words, but she knew the tune well enough. Even Varric began to hum along after a couple verses. And then finally Paden herd Carver's soft, tentative contribution.

The melancholy nature of the song brought a quiet mood to the group, and when it was over they all sat in silence for a few moments, staring at their mugs.

"Damn, we sound pretty good," Varric said.

The rest of them chuckled lightly, and then everyone took sips of their drinks. Immediately Varric and Anders went off on some sort of tangent about the proper rules of various dwarven drinking games, which Carver seemed particularly interested in. After a half hour or so Paden glanced at Aveline, since her friend had been pretty quiet all evening, content to sit and listen, contributing rarely. But there was a soft, contented smile on Aveline's face, and she seemed laid back and relaxed for the first time since Paden had known her. It was probably the first time since joining the guard that Aveline had not felt the need to prove herself or impress anyone.

Paden smiled and took a sip of her ale, calling the night a complete success.


	24. To Trap a Wolf

**Act One**

**Chapter Twenty-four**

**To Trap a Wolf**

The next few days passed much without incident. The job Varric had told Paden about ended up being a bust, as the woman's son had been missing just shy of two days, and returned home unscathed. When they went to question the boy's mother she told them he had snuck into Lowtown to visit a girl he was forbidden to associate with, and that he would be properly disciplined.

Leads on other jobs were not forthcoming, and Paden found herself with some free time in which to do whatever she pleased. So she hid her father's grimoire in a backpack, and hiked by herself to a secluded spot on the Wounded Coast where she could practice some new spells without the risk of watchful eyes.

The spot she chose was the hidden cove near the small cave where she and Anders had sheltered from the rain. It was far enough from the main road that it was unlikely anyone would stumble across it, and a thick coverage of trees growing around the edge of the cove made it very difficult to notice from a distance.

Paden paused at the mouth of the cave as she passed by. The rock tower she had made was still standing, though the flower had long since shriveled away. Paden smiled at the fond memories that resurfaced. This would always be a special place to her now.

She bent and quickly gathered up a few small rocks, and assembled a much smaller tower beside the first one, just to acknowledge that she had returned to that spot. It just felt like something she should do.

Then she continued on down to the cove, carefully descending the steep embankment, until she stood in the sand with the gently rolling waves before her. She set her father's grimoire on a boulder that was about table hight, and turned to a page she had marked the night before.

Malcolm Hawke had dabbled in every school of magic—except blood magic—and had kept extensive notes. Paden remembered him being especially skilled in the Elemental and Primal schools, and that is what he taught her from. But those did not give subtle examples of the use of magic, so now Paden turned to her father's notes to explore the less commonly learned Entropy school. Nearly every spell in this school was invisible, though none were lethal in and of themselves. But the damage they could do to enemies was still very great, since each one affected the enemy's mind, interrupting or completely disrupting their effectiveness in battle.

They were difficult to learn and not many mages ever bothered, mainly because one had to have a "victim" to practice on in order to see results. It was not as simple as conjuring a ball of fire or hurling a lightning bolt, and the chances of finding a willing "victim" were slim at best.

But Paden could practice the theory of the spells, and that is what she did, for the better part of the day. Concentrating, drawing power from the Fade, feeling the mana flow through her veins like a deep breath of fresh air, feeling the power tingle in her fingertips. She had heard of mages who practiced these spells on animals, but Paden could never bring herself to do that. She would practice on the very enemies the spells were intended for.

On her way back to Kirkwall in the late afternoon, Paden made a mental note to ask Anders about which schools of magic he specialized in—other than healing of course. She had seen him use elemental spells like fire and ice, but he also seemed to know quite a few others that she hadn't been able to identify. He had expressed an interest in teaching her some spells before, and she wanted to take him up on that offer.

When she arrived back home she was happy to see that Gamlen was gone for the evening, probably off getting drunk somewhere. Paden sat down in a chair by the fire and pulled off her boots. Her feet ached, as she had been standing or walking nearly all day.

Carver approached her, flapping an envelope with a broken seal at her. "What's this?" he demanded, a frown creasing his brow.

Paden arched an eyebrow at him as she set her boots aside. "Am I supposed to have any idea?"

"It's from Athenril," Carver explained. "I thought we were finished with her. Why is she still writing us?"

Paden gestured to the envelope. "You've obviously read it, why don't you tell me?"

"She passing us a job," Carver said. "But like I said, I thought we were through with her."

"We are," Paden assured. She stood up and went to the water picture that sat on the table and poured herself a glass. "We're through working for nothing. But if she's offering pay then who am I to refuse?"

"Did you sign her books?" Carver asked, his glare beginning to smolder.

Paden took a few gulps of her water before answering. "Yes, I did," she said simply, and wiped her mouth. Before Carver could protest she snatched the letter from his hand and read it quickly.

_Hawke,_

_You might be interested in something that's come up. A contact of mine, a fellow by the name of Anso, is asking around for someone competent regarding a job, and I suggested you. He's always paid well, so if I were you, I'd check into it before someone else snaps it up. He said he'll be in the Lowtown Bazaar at night._

_Athenril_

Paden snorted and looked up at her brother. "This isn't even a job from her," she said. "She's just giving information about a possible job from someone else."

"But you still signed her books," Carver said.

"And it's a good thing, too, or she wouldn't have given us this lead. Come on, let's go check it out."

"That's it? No explanation? No excuses?"

Paden sighed as she sat back down in the chair and slipped her boots back on. "I'm not going to argue with you, Carver. I'm tired of you dissecting every single decision I make."

"Well if you didn't make so many bad ones I wouldn't have to," Carver argued.

Paden glared at him. "You're vote of confidence is overwhelming, Carver." She stood up. "Fine, _I'll_ go talk to this Anso person and get paid. You can stay here." She left the house and headed at a brisk pace toward the market. The sun had finally set behind the hills, but the sky in the west was still tinged with yellow, the last remnants of the day sliding below the horizon.

Paden heard the door to Gamlen's apartment slam shut, and a moment later footsteps running up behind her. Carver fell into step beside her without a word, and they continued on to the market in silence.

They were just about to descend the steps into the Lowtown Bazaar when someone called after them.

"Hey, Hawke!"

They stopped walking and turned to see Varric and Anders coming out of the Hanged Man.

"What are you two doing?" Paden asked, retracing her steps to meet them halfway.

Varric chuckled. "Some blighted idiot puked all over the table right next to ours."

Anders put the back of his hand to his mouth and glanced away.

Paden smiled when she noticed. "You're looking a little green there, Anders," she commented.

"It was the smell," he said. "Had to get out."

"It was pretty bad," Varric agreed. "Where are you two off to in such a hurry?"

"Seeing about a job. You're welcome to come along if you wish."

"I'm not going back in there tonight," Anders said, jabbing his thumb back at the door to the tavern.

The four of them entered the Lowtown Bazaar together, and then paused in the street to look around for the contact.

The market was empty; all the booths closed up for the night, the people gone home. Then Paden noticed a dwarf standing with his back to them just down the street.

"I wonder if that's him," she mused aloud. Since he was the only person in sight, she approached him. "Are you Anso?" she asked.

The dwarf just about jumped out of his skin, flailing his arms out with a cry as he spun to face her, eyes wide with fright. "Sweet mother of partha! You can't just run up on someone like that!"

Paden arched a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Did you think I was going to attack you?" she asked.

He shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. "Oh, no, no…or…I hope not…anyhow." He frowned slightly. "Are you the human Athenril told me about?"

"I used to work for Athenril, if that's what you mean," Paden said.

"Yes! Yes it is. I mean…that is…"

Paden smiled slightly. "Why so jumpy?"

The dwarf let out a small, tense sigh. "My apologies, human. I haven't been on the surface very long. I keep thinking I'll fall up into that sky any minute!"

Varric chuckled. "Bartrand used to be like that. Got jumpy every time he stepped outside."

"I'd pay to see that," Carver said with an amused grin.

"But I digress," Anso said, his eyes still just as wide and bulging as they ever were. Paden started to wonder if they weren't that way permanently. "I need some help…rather badly, in fact. Some product of mine has been…misplaced. The men who were supposed to deliver it decided not to."

"And you want us to go get it for you," Paden finished. "Just what did these men steal?"

Anso chuckled nervously. "Did I say steal? I don't know if I would go that far. They seemed like perfectly reasonable smugglers. They smiled and everything!" He glanced around and shifted his feet slightly. "The goods are valuable, however…and illegal. And my client wants them very, very badly. You know how those Templars can be." He chuckled again.

Paden folded her arms across her chest with a frown. "You're smuggling lyrium to the Templars?"

"Of course he is," Carver exclaimed. "That's just bloody great."

"Maker's breath!" Varric said. "Between the chantry, the Carta and the Coterie…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Shh!" Anso cautioned, waving his hands frantically for silence. "By the Paragons, not so loudly!" He glanced around, checking that no one overheard them. Then he wiped his hand across his brow and muttered, "My word! I'm not cut out for this. I should have taken that job sweeping stables like Mother insisted."

Paden sighed and glanced at Carver. If they took this job it wouldn't be the first time they had smuggled lyrium; Athenril had made them do it on several occasions. But they didn't work for her anymore. They could decide for themselves what sorts of jobs they would or would not do. Though, it wasn't like there were a lot of options.

Carver caught her glance and shrugged. "It's not like anything I say will matter; you'll still do what you want."

Paden rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation, then turned back to Anso. "If you make it worth my time I'll help you," she said. If she was going to resort to illegal smuggling yet again, then she had better be well paid for it.

"Oh, I will!" Anso assured quickly, then paused. "Or…I'll try to."

"Practically a guarantee," Carver said sarcastically.

"Will you pay us or not?" Paden asked.

"I will, I will," Anso said.

"I'm not doing this for free, dwarf," Paden warned.

He chuckled nervously and gestured down the street with his thumb. "The gentlemen conduct their business at night, in a little hovel within the Alienage. Here's the address." He handed Paden a small slip of paper. "If you have to kill them, then I guess it can't be avoided. But I'm sure they'll be reasonable."

"Oh, you're sure, are you?" Carver said. "Why don't you just go get it yourself then?"

The dwarf sputtered, and Paden held up her hand. "Let's just go and get this over with." She pointed her finger at Anso. "You just stay right here. This won't take long, and I'll be back for my coin."

"Oh, yes, yes of course," Anso assured.

Paden set out at a brisk pace toward the Alienage, which wasn't very far to go. It was just down the street from Gamlen's house, in the oposite direction from the market. She had been there a couple times in the past for Athenril.

"Why do we always end up with the jobs nobody else wants?" Carver complained as they walked.

"Look on the bright side," Anders said cheerily. "At least we don't have to hike up Sundermount or slog through sewers or take a ferry to the Gallows this time."

"Blondie's got a good point," Varric said.

When they entered the Alienage they stopped and took a careful look around. There was not a soul in sight, and a soft prickle began to travel up Paden's back. She glanced at the address on the scrap of paper and compared it with the numbers on the doors.

"It's that one," she said softly, and headed for it.

"It's a little quiet here tonight," Varric commented in a near whisper. "Too quiet."

Paden knocked on the door and waited, but there was no sound from inside. She knocked again, and when no answer came, she tried the door latch. It was unlocked, so she opened it cautiously and peered inside.

The room beyond was empty but for a few sticks of furniture. She pushed the door open all the way and entered the building.

"Hm, nobody home," Carver grunted. "That's no surprise."

There was another door on the far side of the room and Paden approached it carefully and placed her ear close to it. She thought she heard a shuffling noise on the other side. She motioned the others over and then unhooked her staff from her back and held it at the ready. The others likewise brandished their weapons, just as a precaution. Paden did not like the feeling she was getting from this place. Something was definitely not right here.

Paden knocked lightly on the door. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone in there? We're here on business."

There was no answer, so Paden turned the latch and pushed the door open.

Six armored men stood on the other side, blades drawn. Paden instinctively took a couple steps back, conjuring a fireball in her hand at the same time. She paused long enough to make sure the men were actually attacking before throwing the fireball; she didn't want to harm them if they were simply being cautious themselves. But no, they rushed forward without any hesitation, and seconds later the entire room was consumed in a fiery blast. Most of the men were knocked off their feet and screams filled the air.

The fire dissipated quickly, not hot enough or constant enough to catch the room on fire, leaving behind a swirling gray smoke. Paden cleared the doorway, making room for Carver and his sword. That, along with a couple well-aimed arrows from Bianca, ended the fight almost before it had a chance to begin.

They stood there for a moment in silence, looking at the six bodies that littered the room.

Paden frowned. "That was almost too easy."

"They were waiting for us," Anders said. "Someone must have tipped them off."

"I knew something didn't feel right," Paden said. "I'd like to know what all this is about." She glanced around, noticing that the only thing in the room was a large chest in the corner. She pointed to it. "Anso's goods are probably in that chest."

"Just watch for traps," Varric cautioned. "It wouldn't surprise me if that thing was rigged."

Paden set her staff on the floor as she knelt and carefully inspected the latch and the lid of the chest. "It's not locked, and I don't see anything unusual about it." She flipped the latch up and carefully lifted the lid.

Nothing happened.

"Is it the goods?" Carver asked.

"It's empty," Paden said in surprise as she stared at the empty bottom of the chest.

"Waste of bloody time," Carver growled. "Who put us up to this?"

Paden frowned as she tried to figure out what was going on. "Well, I guess those smugglers would rather have the goods than Anso's payment."

"Sure," Varric said. "The sale of the lyrium would probably bring them more than twice whatever Anso was paying them."

"Check the bodies," Paden said. "Make sure none of them have it on them anywhere."

A quick search revealed several nice items that Paden could sell later, but not even a pinch of lyrium.

Paden sighed. "I guess all we can do now is go back to Anso and tell him."

"Another job we won't get paid for," Carver said. "Good one, Sister."

Paden shot a glare at her brother. "How is this my fault?"

"You accepted this bloody job."

Paden laughed incredulously. "I dare you to do better, Carver! You haven't secured us a single job, paying or not, in two weeks!"

Carver gestured broadly. "That's because I've been too busy running down every rabbit hole in Kirkwall with you!"

Tears stung the backs of Paden's eyes and she clenched her jaw tightly in anger and hurt.

"Hey now," Varric said. "I don't know if this is the time or place for this."

"Shut up, Dwarf!" Carver exclaimed, jabbing his finger at Varric.

An awkward silence fell heavily on the group for a moment, and then Paden spun away from her brother, leaving the house as quickly as she could before she said or did something she would truly regret.

Once on the street, she pulled up sharply. No less than ten armed and armored men stood as a blockade before her.

"Oh…not good," Varric muttered as he and the others came up behind Paden.

"That's not the elf," a woman in the group, possibly the leader, said. "Who is that?"

"It doesn't matter," the man next to her said as he drew his sword. "We were told to kill whoever enters the house."

"Not good at all," Paden agreed, letting a spark of electricity dance between her fingertips.

As the thugs made their advance, Paden sent the electricity into the nearest one, and it arced across to three others, stunning all of them. Then she let Carver deal with those while she turned her attention to an archer she noticed on the other side of the square. A quick freezing spell turned him into a human ice sickle.

By that time Varric and Bianca had taken down at least three more. But then reinforcements arrived. Four swordsmen and a mage. The enemy mage threw a ball of fire in their direction and Paden quickly ducked behind the huge sacred tree that grew from the center of the square. Carver was already behind it, and Varric was out of range of where the fireball would hit. Anders threw up a spell shield to protect himself.

Once the flames had dissipated, Paden went to Anders' side and he dropped his shield. Then together they threw simultaneous attacks at the mage, who threw up his own shield just in time.

"I need to get closer!" Anders called. "Cover me."

Paden frowned, not understanding his plan, but she did as he asked, using her staff to shoot smaller fireballs at the enemy mage, forcing him to keep his guard up and unable to attack as Anders halved the distance between them. Then he used a spell on the enemy mage that looked a lot like the Holy Smite that the Templars used against mages, and it seemed to have the same effect. Immediately the mage's shield collapsed. The fire from Paden's staff got through and the mage's robes burst into flame. Anders sent a bolt of electricity into the man, putting him out of his misery.

While the mages had been engaged in their own fight, Carver, Varric and Bianca had taken care of the rest.

"Blast!" Carver exclaimed, his voice tinged with a note of rage. "Blast and damnation!"

Paden frowned as she jogged to the other side of the square where her brother was examining a deep cut in his bicep.

"Carver! Are you all right?" she said, moving close to see how bad it was. Blood ran down his arm, dripping off his fingertips. The wound itself was gaping, cutting across the entire width of his arm. "Maker's breath," Paden exclaimed softly. "Anders! Get over here, Carver needs help!"

"I'm fine!" Carver said, turning his body away from his sister.

"You're not fine, you're bleeding out."

"It's just the muscle," Carver argued.

Anders joined them and reached his hands out to examine Carver's wound.

Carver pulled away. "Stay away from me, Mage!"

Anders held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, but he didn't back away. "Carver, I need to close that wound," he said softly.

"You're angry at me, Carver," Paden said. "Don't take it out on Anders. Let him help you."

Carver glared at his sister, but he did as she asked, and stood still while Anders took a look. The healer placed one hand lightly over Carver's wound without actually touching it, then closed his eyes to concentrate. A bluish glow radiated from his hand, but no change came to the wound before he broke his concentration and pulled his hand away.

"What's the matter?" Paden demanded.

"There's poison in the wound," Anders said. "Only a small amount, but if I close the wound with it in there it will just fester; we need to clean it first."

Carver scoffed. "Can't you just magic it away?"

"I wish I could, but no," Anders said regretfully. "Healing magic doesn't work like that. All it can really do is give or take life. The poison has no life to take."

"Then let's hurry and get him someplace where we can help him," Paden said.

"My clinic," Anders said. "I have antidotes for various poisons there. But for now I need to stop this bleeding." He opened the pouch on his belt and pulled out a roll of bandaging.

Just then they heard footsteps, and looked up to see a man with the same armor the others had descending the steps into the Alienage. Paden instinctively put herself between the man and her brother.

"I don't know who you are, friend," he said. "But you made a serious mistake coming here."

Paden was about to try and reason with him, since apparently this had all been some sort of giant misunderstanding. But the man raised his voice, cutting off her chance.

"Lieutenant! I want everyone in the clearing, now!"

So there were even more of them? Depending on how many more this might go very badly for them with Carver out of commission. Paden drew her staff and stood ready for another attack.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs just out of sight, but they were only one set, and they made a dragging, stumbling sort of sound. Finally a man in full armor stumbled into view, one hand against a building for balance. He was splattered with blood, and blood gushed out from under his breastplate, though there was no damage to the armor itself.

"Captain…" he gasped, and then crumpled to the ground.

Before anyone could react, an elf in dark armor came around the corner, stepping over the soldier's body.

"Your men are dead, and your trap has failed," he said to the captain. "I suggest running back to your master while you can." He walked past the captain and paused in front of Paden, regarding her curiously.

Paden stared right back at him, intrigued by his strange appearance. A mop of unruly white hair covered his head, partially obscuring his large green eyes. White lines, like veins marked the skin of his chin, throat and arms. Tattoos? Not any like Paden had ever seen.

The captain put a heavy hand on the elf's shoulder. "You're going nowhere, slave!"

The elf immediately threw up his arm, knocking the captain's hand away, and at the same time the white markings on his skin ignited with a pale blue light. He must have had other markings elsewhere on his body because the light escaped through different parts of his armor as well.

He raised a gauntleted fist into the air and then slammed it into the captain's chest. It penetrated the captain's armor and his body, punching clean through and protruding between the man's shoulder blades. The man gasped and gurgled, eyes bulging in shock and pain, and then he fell to the ground, dead.

"I am not a slave," the elf said. He turned to face Paden and the others, the light in his markings slowly fading.

Paden took a couple steps back from him, unsure what to make of the elf. She exchanged wary glances with Anders and Varric. This whole situation was getting more and more confusing with each passing moment.

"I apologize," the elf said, apparently realizing what they must be thinking. He walked all the way into the square and looked at the bodies that littered the ground. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters I had no idea they'd be so…numerous."

Paden's eyes narrowed as she regarded the elf. "_You_ were responsible for this?" she said.

"I am the reason you're here, yes," the elf said, and turned to face her again. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. As crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone." He gestured to Paden. "Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"Wait a minute," Paden said, trying to put the pieces together. "There was no stollen lyrium then? Everything Anso said was a lie?"

"Not everything," Fenris assured. "Your employer was simply not who you believed."

"So there really was no job. You know, I don't appreciate being lied to," Paden said. She glanced at Carver to see how he was doing. He was starting to look a little pale. "Especially if we're putting our lives on the line. I like to know what I might die for."

"Perhaps the deception was unnecessary," the elf allowed. "If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustom to hiding."

Paden gestured at the bodies lying around them. "This seems like an awful lot of effort just to find one slave."

"It is," Fenris said, not elaborating.

Paden arched an eyebrow at him. "But I take it you're no ordinary slave. Does this have something to do with those markings?" She pointed to his tattoos.

Fenris lifted his arms and looked at the white vein patterns that traced across his biceps. "Yes," he said. "I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them I would still be a slave."

"Yes…I can imagine," Paden said hesitantly. So it was the markings that allowed him to punch his fist through a man's chest like that? It was very bizarre, but Paden had seen a lot of bizarre things over the last couple weeks. Not a lot could surprise her now.

Paden heard Carver grunt, and she looked over her shoulder to see Anders wrapping a bandage tightly around her brother's arm.

Fenris lifted a hand and took a step toward Paden, bringing her attention back to him. "If I may ask…what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

"It was empty," Paden said.

A look of disappointment crossed the elf's handsome features. "I suppose it was too much to hope for," he said softly. "Even so…I had to know."

"You were expecting something else?" Paden asked.

"I was," Fenris said with a soft sigh. "But I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more." He crouched beside the body of the dead captain and began searching through the man's belt pouches.

"You know, you didn't have to lie to get my help," Paden commented as she watched him.

"That remains to be seen," he muttered. Paden frowned at that, but before she could say anything he stood up. "It's as I thought," he said. "My former master accompanied them to the city." He turned to face her. "I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he leaves. I will need your help."

Paden's frown deepened. "Really? After all this," she gestured around them, "Luring me into a trap, lying to me, and now you want my help?"

"If Anso had asked you to divert an ambush of Tevinter bounty hunters, would you have done it?"

Paden smiled grimly. "You'd be surprised what I might do for coin these days. But you're right, coming from him it would seem too strange. Coming from you, though…"

"Had I known of you earlier I might have asked you personally," Fenris admitted. "I had only Anso to rely on, I fear. I am not lying to you now. Please, help me do this."

Paden regarded the elf for a moment, trying to figure out his many contradictions. He was a former slave, but his manner of speech made him seem educated or well brought up. The great-sword strapped to his back implied that he was a strong warrior, and he was obviously deadly, yet he seemed kind, and was one of the politest people Paden had ever met.

"So, you need my help to confront your old master," Paden said. "Sounds like you intend to do more than just talk."

The elf's brows furrowed slightly. "Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones, and has sent so many hunters that I have lost count. And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom." His eyes narrowed and his voice became deeper, almost like a growl. "So, yes, I intend to do more than just talk."

Paden stared into the elf's eyes for a moment and then she sighed. "We took the job with Anso because we really needed the coin. That fact hasn't changed."

"My funds are limited," Fenris admitted. "But I will find a way to repay you if you help me, I swear it."

Empty promises, Paden thought. But no…somehow she knew this elf was good on his word. She didn't know how she knew that, she just felt it in her gut. This one had honor and he would stand by what he said. Besides, he was a former slave running from those who had oppressed him. Didn't he deserve his freedom?

She finally nodded. "All right, I'll help you."

The corner of Fenris's mouth turned up into the barest hint of a smile. "The magister is staying in a mansion in Hightown. We must enter before morning." He gave Paden the address.

Paden gestured to Carver. "My brother is injured and needs care first," she said.

Fenris glanced at Carver and then back to Paden. "Just meet me there as soon as you can." With that he left the Alienage.

Paden let out a tense breath and turned back to her companions. Anders was just putting the finishing touches on the bandage. "How are you doing?" she asked her brother.

"I'll live," Carver said flatly, his mouth a thin line. He refused to make eye contact with her.

Paden looked at Anders for verification.

"Let's get him to my clinic," the healer said. "He'll be fine then."

"Right, let's go."

All the way through Darktown they were silent. Carver walked behind Paden the whole time, his head bowed. He was really mad at her this time. Or perhaps this had been the final straw atop a mountain of perceived wrongs. Paden could do no good in the eyes of her brother. Every decision was the wrong one, every bad thing that happened was her fault.

That hurt. Knowing that he felt that way about her hurt like the Void itself. But what could she do? She was already doing her best, doing what she could. As long as he continued refusing to step up, make decisions, do something on his own, then he would just have to be all right with her feeble attempts. That's all there was to it.

They arrived at the clinic and Carver sat down on a cot while Anders went to his apothecary for the supplies he needed.

"Is he going to be all right?" Paden asked again.

"Sister, quit mothering me," Carver growled.

Anders returned with a tray containing a bowl of water, a small bottle of dark green liquid and a stack of rags. He gave Paden a reassuring smile as he set the try on the cot beside Carver. "He's going to be just fine."

"Maybe he should stay here until we return from Hightown," Paden suggested. "There could be more fighting."

"I told you to stop mothering me," Carver said. "I'm not staying anywhere. We're finishing this job and we're getting paid, and I'm helping." His voice softened just a bit. "Besides, who's going to watch your back if there's a fight?"

Paden's chin trembled and she glanced away, feeling grateful that no matter what she did or said, no matter her shortcomings or her failings, and no matter how angry she made him, he was still there for her; he still had her back.

Anders used water and rags to rinse out Carver's wound, then he doused it with the dark green liquid and let it sit for a few minutes. Then he rinsed it again. Finally, he placed both hands over the wound, closed his eyes to concentrate, and the blue glow came from his hands, the healing magic knitting Carver's flesh back together.

It took a lot longer than Paden thought it would; close to fifteen minutes before Anders finally dropped his hands. His body sagged from exhaustion and he braced his hands on the edge of the cot to keep from falling to the floor. Paden rested her hands on his shoulders to steady him.

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked with a concerned frown.

He nodded and held up one hand to assure her that he was fine, but he didn't speak, and kept his eyes closed.

Paden turned to her brother, and was amazed to see only a deep scar where the wound had been only minutes before. That had been the most extensive healing she had witnessed for herself and she was greatly intrigued.

Carver touched the scar experimentally and then smiled slightly. "It doesn't even hurt anymore," he said. He lifted his arm, moving it back and forth. "Skin's a little tight, but I think I'll do all right."

"I'll finish it up later," Anders assured. "I can repair the scar, I just can't do it all in one session."

"So then we should get to Hightown," Varric suggested. "That elf is waiting for us."

"Will you be all right, Anders?" Paden asked. "You don't have to come."

Anders gave her a smile as he stood up. "I'm fine, I just had to catch my breath. Let's go."

Paden led the way from the clinic, but she glanced back and saw that as Anders was passing by his apothecary table, he paused and withdrew from his potions chest a small vial of lyrium potion. He popped the cork off and tipped it back, swallowing the pale blue liquid in one gulp, grimacing as it went down. He left the bottle on the table and hurried to catch up with them. Paden quickly glanced away, pretending she hadn't noticed.

He was more exhausted than he let on. Worry lines creased Paden's brow as the group made their way to the surface. Should he be that exhausted after performing such a simple healing? Paden didn't think so. There were other factors working against him, there must be. How long had he been taking lyrium like that? She would have to find out.


	25. Wolf on the Hunt

**Act One**

**Chapter Twenty-five**

**Wolf on the Hunt**

Paden kept her eye on Anders all the way to hightown, but he gradually regained his strength, so that by the time they reached the mansion in the Hightown Estates he seemed back to his usual self.

They could see Fenris waiting outside the door to the mansion, and he turned to face them as they approached, green eyes reflecting the moon light.

"No one has left the mansion," he said once they were in earshot. "But I've heard nothing within. Danarius may know we're here. I wouldn't put it past him."

"You know, I could stand to know a little more about this Danarius before we rush in there," Paden said.

"He is a magister of the Tevinter Imperium," Fenris said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, is that all?" Varric said with a sarcastic snort. "Nothing to worry about then."

Paden didn't know a lot about Tevinter magisters, but she did know they were powerful mages that held titles and wealth and pretty much ruled the Imperium. For Danarius to own a slave like Fenris, and to so ruthlessly hunt him, he was probably not the nicest person they could run into.

"There, he is a wealthy mage with great influence," Fenris said, pointing North in the general direction of Tevinter. Then he pointed at the mansion. "Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

Paden started growing nervous. She did not like fighting other mages. More often than not they were more powerful than she was. She did have Anders at her side, though, and Carver and Varric. They would just have to be cautious.

"We should still go carefully," Paden urged. "He may have prepared some magical defenses."

"They will not keep me from him," Fenris replied. And without further ado, he turned and opened a side door of the mansion, slipping in quietly. The others followed.

They found themselves in what looked to be a storeroom. Crates and barrels and sacks of grain and potatoes lined the walls. Moonlight filtered in through the narrow windows, and that was all the light in the room. They stopped just inside the door to let their eyes adjust to the dimness.

"Danarius!" Fenris called.

Paden arched her eyebrows at him. "Do you really want to alert him like that?"

"He already knows we're here," Fenris said, his deep voice nearly a growl. "You cannot hide from me, Danarius!" he shouted.

Paden hoped this Danarius was here alone, but that was very unlikely.

They went into the adjoining room, which seemed to be the kitchen. The house hadn't been lived in in untold years. Tiles were coming loose from the floor, cobwebs hung in thick curtains and a layer of dust covered everything. The musty smell of decay tickled Paden's nose.

Then a prickle ran up Paden's spine and down her arms, raising goose bumps across her flesh. She and Anders both took their staffs off their backs at the same time, assuming defensive stances as they glanced around the room in search of the source of the spiritual disturbance.

A second later several shades appeared, and Paden reacted by blasting them with fire. Four of them were killed immediately, but four more took their place across the room. Carver and Fenris attacked ferociously with their swords, while Varric fired and reloaded Bianca again and again like muscle memory.

Paden froze an entire row of shades into solid ice, and then Carver rushed over and hacked them to pieces.

Then the fight was over.

"He sends spirits to do his fighting for him," Fenris spat as he sheathed his sword. "Danarius! Can you hear me? Your pets cannot stop us!"

The hatred evident in Fenris's voice was intense, and it turned Paden's stomach a little. She had never experienced feelings like that for herself, nor had she met anyone who expressed theirs so openly as Fenris. She could see how very lethal he was, and she had to be sure she never got on his bad side.

As Fenris walked past her toward the next room he met her eyes, and the angry glare he gave her was very personal, meant just for her, and it sent chills up her spine. He said nothing, however, and walked on ahead. What was that about? Had she done something to anger him? He obviously didn't want to talk about it though, so she let it go for the moment.

They wandered through a couple more rooms of the huge mansion, and then they found themselves in the main hall. A grand, double staircase curved up either side of the room, leading to the private chambers on the second floor. Fenris guessed that Danarius would probably be up there.

More shades appeared as they crossed the hall, this time twice as many as before.

This battle was tough. The shades were much more aggressive and rushed upon Paden, surrounding her in seconds. She cast a repulsive spell, but it had little affect on them. She froze a couple and used her staff to try and block the swinging arms of the others. She threw up a spell shield just in time, as one threw all its weight into her as it came at her with its claws bared. It knocked her backwards and she flailed her arms, trying to catch her balance, but a second later she found herself sitting on the floor without memory of actually falling. The shade towered over her.

Then it froze solid and pieces of ice fell down onto Paden's face. She glanced to the side and caught Anders' eye, silently thanking him for the save. She scrambled out from under the shade and Carver swung his great sword down upon it, shattering it to pieces.

A few minutes later the battle was over and they took a moment to catch their breath. Paden wiped sweat off her brow and tugged the tie out of her hair to regather her ponytail. She paid close attention to Anders and Carver to make sure they were both doing all right. They seemed to be suffering no ill effects from earlier.

Fenris was eager to continue on, so they mounted the steps to the upper level and began searching the rooms. All were empty. But finally they came to one that was locked.

"He's in there," Fenris said. "This is the only room we haven't checked."

"I can try to pick the lock," Varric offered.

"No need," Fenris growled. He lifted his foot—which Paden noticed was bare—and slammed it hard against the door right beside the knob. The door shuddered and cracked. Fenris kicked the door again and this time the wood splintered and the door flew away, revealing the master bed chambers. Before anyone could enter the room, shades and other demons appeared behind them.

"Not again," Paden groaned. She had definitely had enough of demons to last a lifetime. This time she stayed back from the thick of it, up against the wall by the door of the bedroom. Anders stood to her right and a little in front of her, casting spells from a distance as well. The majority of the damage was done by Carver and Fenris this time.

Once all the shades had been killed, Fenris ran back to the master bed chambers, but they were empty. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he looked around.

"Gone…" he said softly. "I had hoped…" He sighed and shrugged marginally.

"I'm sorry, Fenris," Paden said. "Do you think he was ever here?"

"No…I don't know, it doesn't matter any longer." He glanced around at the room. "I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I…need some air." And with that he hurried from the room, heading back to the side door they had used to enter the mansion.

Paden watched him go, feeling strangely sorry for him. He had been so desperate to find his old master and be free of him forever. The disappointment evident in his eyes was crushing.

"Did he just say we could take whatever we wish out of here?" Carver asked.

"I believe he did," Varric said. The two of them immediately began looking through drawers and cupboards and chests.

Paden finally forced herself to stop thinking about Fenris, and joined the others in their search. They found some jewelry and a pouch of coins that totaled three sovereigns. In another room they found a few nice knives and daggers, and a couple trinkets that looked like they could fetch a price.

Once they were finished searching the house, they returned to the side door and went outside into the night. Fenris was nowhere to be seen. They walked toward the street, and then were stopped by his voice.

"It never ends," he said, and they spotted him leaning against a corner of the house just off the path, gazing up at the full moon. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul. And now I find myself in the company of even more mages." He turned to face them and his piercing eyes met Paden's with a hard stare.

Paden stared right back. Great, he was going to take issue with her being a mage?

"I saw you casting spells inside," Fenris said. He pushed off from the wall and walked toward her. "I should have realized sooner what you really were."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Paden said. "I usually work pretty hard to keep it a secret."

"Tell me then, what manner of mage are you?" Fenris asked. "What is it that you seek?"

Paden shook her head slightly. "I'm just trying to get by."

"Yet I have seen many crimes done in the name of survival," Fenris countered.

"True," Paden allowed. "You have a particular issue with mages, though?"

"I have an issue with magic and those who are careless with it."

Carver took a step forward and pointed his finger at Fenris. "If you have a problem with my sister, Elf, then you have a problem with me."

Paden gave her brother a quick, appreciative smile.

Fenris looked at each of them and backed down. "I imagine I appear ungrateful," he said, and let out a soft sigh. "If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth."

"I'm sorry we couldn't be of more help," Paden said.

"I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt," Fenris said as he took a small coin purse out of one of his belt pouches. "Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised." He handed the purse to Paden.

She felt hesitant to take it, since they didn't capture Danarius, and it was all Fenris had. But she didn't want to insult him, and they really did need the coin. She slipped the purse into her pocket without looking at the contents.

"It is not a lot," Fenris said, his tone apologetic. "So should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it."

"Really?" Paden said, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "You weren't all that thrilled with me a moment ago."

He regarded her for a brief moment. "You are not Danarius," he said. "Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen."

"Then I'll keep that in mind," Paden said as she studied him. "We're actually planning an expedition that's proving a lot more difficult to prepare for than we first anticipated. We could probably use some help."

Fenris inclined his head to her. "Fair enough. Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wants his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that I am at your disposal."

"Then I'll likely visit soon," Paden said. "Good night, Fenris."

He gave her a nod and then went back inside the mansion.

Paden turned to face the others.

"Well, at least we got paid," Carver said. "How much did he give us?"

Paden took the purse out and dumped the contents into her hand. A lump rose in her throat and she forced a swallow past it. "Two sovereigns," she said.

"A lot more than I thought," Carver said, obviously pleased. "Combined with what we found in the mansion, this was the highest paying job we've had so far."

"I just don't feel good about taking everything he has," Paden admitted. "Now he has nothing, how will he live?"

"I'm sure he'll figure it out," Anders commented.

"I think it's too much," Paden insisted. "We didn't even do what he paid us for."

"We showed up," Carver countered. "We fought demons for him. He didn't have a chance against them without our help. It's not our fault Danarius wasn't here."

"I actually agree with your brother on this one," Anders said.

Paden shot a glare at him. "Why? Because he doesn't like mages? He's still a person, with needs and feelings. Would you leave him bleeding on the ground too?"

"I didn't say that," Anders replied softly, looking shocked that she had spoken to him that way.

"Look, Hawke, if you're so worked up over it, give him some of it back," Varric said. "But I doubt he'll take it; he didn't think even that was enough."

Paden shook her head and turned to leave. It would be dawn in a couple hours. She had been fighting all evening and she was exhausted. It was affecting her ability to communicate rationally.

"I think this reward was well-deserved," Carver said. "Especially after that trap we were lured into, and me getting all cut up. Or do you disagree?"

"I never said we didn't deserve to be paid," Paden argued. "And if I hadn't taken that job then we wouldn't have been. So maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all."

Carver pointed his finger at her. "We were bloody lucky this time, that's what. But it doesn't seem to usually turn out that way."

"Not every lead I've had has been a bust, you know?" Paden said, raising her voice slightly. She could feel emotion gripping her chest and a sudden desire to flee. She couldn't believe she and her brother were having an argument in front of the others. They usually kept their arguments to themselves, preferring not to cause a scene. But it seemed like Carver had found something new to blame Paden for, and emotions were high and hard to ignore.

"No, not every one," Carver agreed. "Just most of them."

Paden gritted her teeth hard and glared at her brother. "Just for once can't you be on _my _side? You're always against me, you always have to have to a different opinion. Is that really the way you feel, or are you just keeping up appearances?"

Carver stared at her, but before he could answer that, Paden continued. "I'm doing the best I can, you know? I'm traipsing all over the city and the countryside looking for horrible jobs I wouldn't force a slave to do, with no guarantee of payment at day's end, for something I don't even want! And you know what, Carver? I'm doing it alone." She gestured broadly in his direction. "I've been doing this alone for a long time, because all you do is follow me around like a lost puppy dog; always there, but never really in it with me, never putting in your two bits to take some of the load off my shoulders. But you're so quick to judge me when things don't work out according to your grand plan that you keep secret from the rest of us."

"Hey, now that's not fair," Carver protested.

"Don't you talk to me about what's fair," Paden spat. "_Nothing_ is fair. If life was fair we'd still be living in Lothering, Bethany would still be alive, and you'd be away in the army, out of my life!"

They stared at each other, both shocked by her words. A genuine expression of hurt crossed Carver's face, and tears stung the backs of Paden's eyes as she realized how out of control she had gotten. Before anyone could say anything, she turned around and fled.

"Hawke!" Anders called after her. He jogged a couple steps and grabbed her by the arm.

She spun to face him, throwing her arm up to deflect his hand. "Leave me alone, Anders!" she demanded. And then she ran, as if an army of demons were chasing her.

—

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter was so short. I've been having some writer's block lately, so it's all I can do to get even this much out of me these days. Not to mention most of this one was action scenes and I HATE writing action scenes. I hope you can bear with me in the weeks to come, as a neck injury has kept me away from the computer a lot, and my motivation for writing has dwindled. I'll still be trying to push through it, though, I just can't promise a new chapter every week like I've been doing. I will try my best though.


	26. Crumbling Walls

**A/N:** This is a short chapter, which Carver demanded I write, and much of it is from his POV. Actually I have to give Carver credit for most of this chapter, since he pretty much wrote it himself. Guess he was tired of sharing the spotlight ;-) He and I both hope you enjoy. Let us know what you think!

—

**Act One**

**Chapter Twenty-six**

**Crumbling Walls**

Paden had never realized just how big Hightown was until she tried to run full speed from one end of it to the other. By the time she reached the market square she was gasping for breath and a sharp pain stabbed her side. Her vision blurred, whether from exhaustion or tears she couldn't tell, perhaps it was both.

Her foot caught on the edge of a broken paving stone and she crashed to the ground. She tried to break her fall, throwing her hands out, and was rewarded with a stinging pain as her palms scraped against the rough stone. Her knees hit next, causing her to let out a groan of pain. And then she just laid there, gasping, sobbing, miserable and pathetic.

Not ten seconds later she heard footsteps running over to her, and before she had a chance to see who was there, Anders' voice spoke between gasps for breath.

"Maker, Paden, you run fast!"

Paden pushed herself into a sitting position and saw Anders bent over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Paden forced her tears back, forced her emotions behind their walls, but it was not easy; this time they were demanding to be set free, but she was still not ready to let them go in front of someone else.

She held her hands up, staring with tear-blurred eyes at the bloody scrapes on her palms. She made no move to get up, feeling too weak and defeated to make the effort.

"You shouldn't run off like that alone," Anders scolded once he had recovered enough. "Hightown at night is not a safe place."

Paden snorted, still staring at her hands. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

"You're strong, Paden, and you have skills," Anders allowed, "But against a mob of Pretenders even you'd be overwhelmed."

"So that's why you chased me all the way across Hightown? To protect me?" Paden said, her tone bitter.

"One of the reasons," Anders said, and then he crouched in front of her and took her bloodied hands in his.

Paden's heart skipped a beat and she glance up at him. He had his eyes closed, his brow furrowed. And then a soft white glow enveloped their hands, and Paden felt healing energy tingle across her palms and into her fingers. A moment later Anders pulled away and Paden looked down at her palms, smooth and whole again. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling her anger ebb away a little more each second that Anders was there. Something about him seemed to have a calming effect on her.

He gave her a smile of acknowledgment, and then rose to his feet, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it, and then they both sat down on the bench under the tree in the middle of the square.

After a moment of silence Paden sighed. "I made of a fool of myself."

Anders chuckled softly. "I won't argue with you there."

"Thanks."

He lifted his hands in a slight shrug.

"Sometimes my brother just gets on my nerves…so…much." Paden stuck her fingers in her hair and leaned on her elbows, clenching her jaw tightly.

Anders said nothing to that, but just watched her closely.

"Maybe Carver is right," Paden said after a few moments. "I'm not cut out for this, Anders. I'm not used to this mercenary work. I grew up a farmer's daughter. The only reason I'm _able_ to do any of this is because of my magic. Without that, though, I'm nothing. Bargaining, diplomacy, fighting…" she shook her head and looked up at him. "I'm just stumbling though the dark with all of it."

Anders gave her a faint smile. "I think you're being a little too hard on yourself. Who hasn't stumbled through life at some point? I'm pretty sure I've done far more stumbling than you have. Paden, you're in a strange land, but you've made a name for yourself. You didn't do that by playing the idiot. You've got a good head on your shoulders, and you have a good plan in the works. No one said it was going to be easy, but I think you're doing what you need to be doing right now."

"Really? You don't think I should just get a job as a waitress or something and bide my time?"

Anders shook his head. "You won't get anywhere that way. Me? I'm biding my time, and it will not end well, I'm sure. Besides, you would never make enough as a waitress to buy back your family's estate—not with the way refugees tip anyway."

"I suppose not," Paden agreed. Then she looked at him. "What do you mean it won't end well for you?"

"Sooner or later I'll be found out. I'm a fugitive, and fugitives can't stay put for long before having to run again."

Paden studied his profile for a moment, feeling a lump rise in her throat. "Anders…you won't…run without telling me, will you?"

He frowned at her, a question in his eyes.

"You won't just suddenly disappear one day, right?" The idea of that possibility squeezed Paden's heart in a grip of fear. In a very short time Anders had become the one rock in her stormy sea of a life, and to have him suddenly gone was not a notion she wanted to entertain.

He gave her a sympathetic look that was in no way reassuring. "Paden…I warned you about getting involved with me. It's not safe, and the only guarantee I can give you is that you _will_ be hurt one day because of me. The knowledge of that kills me a little bit every day."

Paden's chin trembled as she looked down at her hands. "So are you saying you'd rather we part ways right now and never see each other again? That it would be better for us both in the long run?"

After an extended moment she glanced at him, but he refused to look at her, affirming her question with his silence. That caused tears to well in Paden's eyes, but she closed them tightly to keep those tears from falling. She cleared her throat and forced a brave smile.

"Well, that's tough," she said. "I think you're stuck with me for good now."

He obliged her with a soft chuckle. "I suppose there are worse people to be stuck with."

"Like my brother?"

Anders' chuckle deepened. "Is it bad that he was the first one to come to mind?"

"You haven't met my uncle yet," Paden said drily. "I'd rather be stuck with Carver any day."

"Speaking of which, what are you going to do now?" Anders asked, bringing the conversation full circle.

Paden shrugged. "I imagine Carver won't be speaking to me for a while. But give him a couple days and he'll act like it never happened."

"And you think that's the best course of action?"

"It's what's worked for us for a long time. We aren't close enough for anything more than that."

Anders nodded his understanding and made no further comment on the issue.

After an extended but comfortable silence, Paden rested her head against Anders' shoulder and closed her eyes, exhausted. After another moment she felt his strong arm slip around her shoulders, tugging her close. Paden's heart fluttered, but she quickly relaxed in his comfort, deciding to just live in that one, precious moment, as if it was the only one they would ever have.

—

Carver entered Gamlen's apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. He unstrapped his sword from his back and tossed it on the table with a clatter. The noise brought Leandra out of the back room.

"What in the Maker's name is going on out here?" she exclaimed, frowning at her son. "Carver?"

"Nothing," Carver mumbled. "Just had a fight with Paden."

Leandra sighed. "You two, always at each other's throats—a lot more so these days it seems. What was this one about?"

"Nothing important," Carver said as he slumped into a chair by the fireplace.

Leandra sat down in the chair across from him. "If it wasn't important then why were you arguing about it?"

Carver glared at his mother. "You're one to talk. The way you and Gamlen go on, it makes Paden and I look like best friends."

Leandra sat back sharply, as if his words had physically slapped her in the face. Carver noticed and regretted his words, but it was too late to take them back. He rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes.

"You're right," Leandra finally said. "Gamlen and I don't get along well these days. But there's a reason for that. I'm angry with him, for what he did with the will, lying to us like that, and for what he did with the estate. Maybe once we get the estate back I'll be able to forgive him, but for now things will remain as they are between us."

She paused, and Carver could feel her gaze on him.

"Carver, why are you angry with Paden? I know you two have always had some rivalry between you, but this…this is more than that. You're actually angry."

Carver sighed and dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. "We had an argument about a job. Just a difference of opinion. You needn't concern yourself." He stood up to go to the bedroom.

Leandra's voice became stern. "Carver Hawke, you may be a man now, but I am still your mother. I have a right to know what goes on in my children's lives."

"I don't know what good it would do," Carver said, feeling annoyed that his mother just couldn't let him be. "It's not like you could help the situation at all."

Leandra frowned. "I'm not as useless as you think." She stood from her chair and went to Carver, gripping him by the arms gently, she looked up into his face. "You two are all I have left in this world, Carver. And since we came here we've all been drifting apart more than ever. I want to know what's going on with you two."

Carver looked down into his mother's gray eyes, and suddenly he was ten years old again with a skinned knee.

Whenever he had skinned his knee or cut his hand or fell off a horse, his mother had been the only one he could turn to for comfort. The only one in his family who seemed to love him unconditionally. Even his father had expected him to "take it like a man," long before he was ready to be a man. His mother had always been his rock; the shoulder to cry on when he was a boy; the voice of reason when he was a young teen; and even now the hardened nineteen-year-old could not deny those ernest eyes filled with a mother's love.

His shoulders slumped. "She keeps getting us these jobs that don't pan out, and for all our efforts we never get paid."

Leandra frowned. "If you never get paid then how is there eight sovereigns in that expedition fund you've got going?"

"Fine, yes, we've been paid a couple times. But we should have twice that by now. And most of that is from scavenging anyway."

"I don't understand, Carver, you're blaming your sister for not getting paid?"

"I'm blaming her because she picks lousy jobs," Carver said. "And she's taking some of them from Athenril! Can you believe it? I thought she had a little more pride than that."

Leandra squeezed Carver's arms and then sat back down in her chair. "We've all had our pride compromised since coming here," she said softly. "Maker knows I sure have." She looked up at him. "Your sister's doing the best she can, Carver. Don't be so angry with her."

"It's always about her, isn't it?" Carver said. He returned to his chair and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "She puts it on herself, you know? She's always got to be the one to get things done. Always has to be the one who makes the big decisions. But she doesn't want to shoulder any of the blame when things go wrong."

"You've always been more than willing to pile it on her shoulders yourself, Carver," Leandra chided.

"Just giving credit where it's due."

Leandra sighed. "Carver, your sister has always looked out for you and Bethany. From the moment you two were born she was so in love with you. She wouldn't let you out of her sight for weeks, and as you grew she was right there beside you, ready to show you the world. In those first few years you and Bethany learned everything from her. You followed her everywhere she went, counted on her protection and guidance. She was practically a hero to you two."

Carver scoffed lightly. "And then the magic happened."

Leandra bit her lip and nodded. "Yes, it's true, your sister's magic did change things. But not over night. It was still many years before you drifted as far apart as you are now. And even now, you still look up to her, you still follow her."

Carver shook his head. "What choice do I really have, Mother? She won't let me have my own life. It's all about her, her magic, about keeping her secret. I can't do anything lest it attract too much attention. And you know what? I think she likes it that way. Anything to stay on top."

"Carver, now that's not fair," Leandra chided gently. "She's been the leader of you three her whole life. And just as a mother will never stop being a mother even when her children are grown and gone, Paden will never stop being your big sister."

Carver felt emotion stick in his throat unexpectedly and he glanced away, swallowing hard.

"Since your father died Paden's taken up a lot of the slack, and I know it hasn't been easy for her. Your father left some pretty big shoes to fill, and I know she's been overwhelmed." She paused and leaned forward, resting a hand on one of his knees. "But you're not a little boy anymore, Carver. You don't _need_ her like you used to. But I know for a fact that she needs you, more than she ever has before. You need each other. You're all you have left."

Carver clenched his jaw tightly as the emotion lodged in his throat grew into an enormous lump that was painful to hold back. He had been holding it back for so long, but finally it was just too much. It broke through, a great sob filled with a year's worth of grief and guilt and bitterness. It sputtered from his mouth unwittingly as he fought to remain in control. But it was too late. The dam had been cracked and would no longer stand before the flood.

More sobs followed the first, and Carver buried his face in his hands, his shoulders hunched, shaking from the force of his grief.

"Mama…I miss Bethany," he gasped.

Leandra left her chair, and in an instant was kneeling in front of her son, her arms slipping around him, rubbing his back gently as he rested his forehead against her shoulder.

"I know," she said, emotion straining her voice as well. "Oh, my sweet Carver, I know you do. So do I…So do I."

Nothing else needed saying as mother and son clung to each other, finally sharing a moment that should have happened a long time ago.

Grief over the loss of his twin had slowly eaten Carver away, until he felt like only a shell of his former self. When Bethany died he had felt hollow, cut in half and gutted, the parts of him that mattered most taken away. Those parts of him were still gone, never to be replaced. Bethany had not been just his sister, she had been part of his soul. When she died part of him had died with her, and learning how to live without her sometimes felt just too hard.

It was easier to pretend it didn't matter. Easier to pretend that he was fine. But he was not fine, and to keep the charade intact the walls had to be built thicker and higher. Blame had to be placed elsewhere; on his sister, and his mother, on Gamlen. To admit his own guilt would be admitting a weakness. To admit any weakness would compromise those carefully constructed walls. Walls from which he would shoot arrows at his family, at his friends, to keep them away, to keep them from seeing inside those walls, from seeing how weak he really was.

As Carver clung to his mother in that moment the walls began to crumble, wounds began to heal. It was not an instant process, and would likely never see completion because he could never be truly whole again. But at least it had finally begun.


End file.
